


Alliances

by onlykatelyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of the Astronomy Tower, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Death Eaters, Divination, Dumbledore’s Army, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Pansy Parkinson has the Sight, Slow Burn, Smut, switching alliances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-13 17:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 108,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16022672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlykatelyn/pseuds/onlykatelyn
Summary: Draco Malfoy has recently decided to switch alliances despite his father’s recent interest in initiating him to become a Death Eater.When Pansy Parkinson makes an uncanny prediction about the features of his soulmate, things get interesting.And, in the midst of everything, Harry Potter can’t seem to get Draco to leave his mind.





	1. Draco Malfoy is no Death Eater

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【Drarry/互攻】【授翻】Alliances](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18930847) by [runeseer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runeseer/pseuds/runeseer)



> This fic loosely follows the timeline of Half-Blood Prince.
> 
> It’s my first 100K+ major fanfiction! Please let know what you think!

Draco Malfoy sat exhaustedly in the vacancy of the Slytherin common room, perched at an empty table that seemed the perfect post for studying. He reveled in the silence, pulling out his supplies as he braced himself for the atrocity that was their upcoming Defense exam. Things were going well, and he found himself a few lines into note-taking when he was rudely interrupted by his childhood friend.

“Draco!” His focus, already broken, shifted to Pansy as she entered the common room. “I’ve just left Divination, and I’ve got some excellent news!”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He loved Pansy like a sister, it was true, but her obsession with the Sight and her incredulous crush on him were enough to drive him crazy.

“What is it, Pans?” He rubbed his forehead, frustrated at the interruption.

“It’s about you and your future lover,” Her face held that look of confidence she wore when she ought not to. “According to my most recent prediction, the one that you are forever meant to be with has raven black hair.” She smiled. “I also saw mention of the color emerald. You know, as in Slytherin?” Pansy took a moment to lean forward across the table, obviously trying to show off her cleavage since her school uniform was blatantly unbuttoned.  
Draco leaned back casually, away from Pansy and her flirting.  
“is that so?” Draco’s brow raised in feigned interest. “Tell me again why you’re taking such a bloody excuse for a class?”

Pansy’s smile faded. “I should have you know that having the Sight is not something you can learn in class! I have been gifted!”

Now, it was Draco’s turn to smile. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

Pansy let out a loud “HMPH!” Before crossing her arms in frustration.  
It was only a moment, however, before her icy stance had melted into something more trying.

Pansy tilted her head to the side and touched each of Draco’s shoulders softly.  
“I’m just trying to look out for you, darling. I don’t want you-“ she leaned in so that her face was inches from touching Draco’s right cheek- “wasting your time courting some lady who-“ she pressed a kiss to the arch of his face- “isn’t fit to be your match.” She pulled away slowly, seductively, searching for some form of acceptance in Draco’s expression.

His face remained stoic and cold, as always. He knew what her motives were; Pansy had never been shy with her romantic interests. And she had been eyeing Draco since 4th year.

“So I suppose you’re telling me that your prediction has somehow coincidentally shown my future love interest to be someone who fits the profile of say...someone exactly like you?”

Pansy turned beat red and stiffened behind him.

“Well, I suppose so...yes.” She audibly gulped, then began to softly play with the edges of Draco’s collar in an attempt to redeem herself. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Draco waved her off of him coldly.  
“You should really think about dropping that class, you know.” He hastily grabbed his things, and without giving Pansy another glance, walked away.

Pansy, crestfallen, bounced straight into rage as she became defensive at Draco’s quite possibly hundredth rejection.

“You’ll realize what you’re missing one day!” She spat, and spun to stomp back up the stairs into the girls dormitory.

Draco, on the other hand, was heading away from the Slytherin common room and up to the library, where maybe he could get some well-deserved goddamned peace and quiet. Snape’s upcoming exam left even his beloved God-son in a state of worry. Even though Draco held nearly perfect marks, all it took was one failing grade to plummet his GPA and place him even farther behind Granger.

Speaking of the devil, Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance as he entered the library to find none other than the Pathetic Trio huddled next to the only vacant table in the vicinity. He scanned the area once more, double checking for any half empty slytherin groups that he maybe wouldn’t mind studying with so much. Sadly, the only other occupants were crowded groups of Ravenclaws, no doubt studying, and a few Hufflepuffs who began whispering feverishly at the sight of Draco’s presence.

Too exhausted to begin to care about the rumors the Hufflepuffs were entertaining, Draco sat down and attempted to ignore the conversation the Boy Who Can Sod Off was having with his friends.

“Shhh! Harry!” Granger warned, “You’re being ridiculous!”

Draco opened his textbook, turning to the chapter on Dark arts. Professor Snape had told his students that it was important to have a thorough understanding of dark magic to defend yourself against it. Draco should be enjoying this; his father of course had just been released from Azkaban recently for crimes related to The Dark Lord himself.

Draco, however, was quite the contrary, though he would never allow anyone to know. Slytherins of course prize themselves on self-preservation, and Draco intended to whole-heartedly. What would Lucius say upon learning that his only son, the Malfoy heir, didn’t want to become a Death Eater?

Draco scratched his quill deeper into the parchment he was using for notes, as if by transferring his anger to the paper he would begin to take interest in the words he was recording.

The truth was, Draco would never be good enough for his father. His whole life had been spent trying to please the man, following his footsteps in earnest. It wasn’t until recently that he had come to the conclusion that if he would live to never meet his fathers expectations, then he might as well make some of his own choices. 

The first was to no longer be a follower. Of anyone. Not his father, not the dark lord. Draco would be his own person, with his own opinions and beliefs. The freedom from this secret release was overwhelming, but Draco kept it buried like everything else. He wasn’t prepared to die at the hands of his father. Not yet, anyway.

With Draco’s new perspective, there were plenty of new choices to be made.  
Today, he would choose to work on his homework instead of terrorizing Potter like he normally would joy himself by doing. For some reason, Draco was too wrapped up in his thoughts to tolerate Gryffindor pettiness. Perhaps it was the grating responsibility of recently learning of Lucius’s plan for Draco to become a-

“He is NOT a death eater! And if you’re not quiet enough, he will HEAR you!” There was Granger again, playing mother Hen to Weasel and Potter. Her voice was barely audible, but Draco had always been keen to the voices around him. And it took little cunningness to know immediately who they were speaking of.  
Draco grasped his quill so tightly he thought it was sure to break as he replayed scenes of Potter’s suspicious behavior in his head.

It seemed that for the past few months Potter had been most peculiar with Draco, somehow arriving slightly behind him at the same places. Of course Draco knew that he was being followed; those Gryffindors were never known for shrewdness and it had always been a matter of time before Potter would get himself caught.

Draco had of course made some smart ass comment toward the boy each time. He didn’t quite appreciate being snooped upon, but for once the Malfoy heir wasn’t doing anything even half-ass immoral. He attended his classes, socialized with his house-mates, and traveled to Hogsmeade when allowed. The most reckless thing he’d done all semester was enjoy the bottle of Firewhiskey Blaise had smuggled into the Slytherin common room after they’d demolished Ravenclaw in the most recent quidditch match. Draco didn’t particularity want to attract attention to himself anymore, not with his new change in alliance. Which is why it was almost funny-no hilarious- that it seemed the reason sodding POTTER was spying on him was because he thought Malfoy was a...death eater?  
Oh, for the love of Merlin, Potter had come up with some piss-poor ideas in the past, but this? This was downright personal.

Apathy turned to ire as Draco slammed his defense book shut and left the library.

&&&

“Geez, Hermione, are you sure you want to spend all day studying for Snape’s putrid test? I mean the sun is shining for Merlin’s sake!” Ron griped his way down the corridor as the trio made its journey toward the library.

“You know, he’s right, Hermione,” Harry chimed, “we could be getting some serious quidditch practice in right now.”

“Exactly!” Ron pushed, “Slytherin’s already beat Ravenclaw so if we don’t win they’ll be getting the cup for sure! We have priorities, Hermione!” 

She gave them both a stern look as they reached their destination.  
Madam Pince was perched at her desk, scribbling call numbers furiously. She paused to give a slight smile to Hermione, her most favorite frequent customer, followed by a warning glance in the direction of Harry and Ron. They took one of the last open tables and began pulling out their books and parchment.

Hermione immediately began working, Ron stared at his text dumbfounded, and Harry glanced around the room, bored.  
Finally, Harry motioned for his friends to lean in.  
“So, I’ve been following Malfoy,” Harry confessed. He waited tensely for their reaction.  
Ron shrugged. “Somebody ought to. He’s a shady git, you know.” Ron seemed to be informing Hermione, as if he knew what she was about to respond with.  
“Why on earth would you follow him!?” If she wasn’t whispering, you’d have thought she was yelling. “Don’t you two spend enough time around each other bickering as it is?”

“Yes, Hermione. We do. But I just can’t shake this feeling about him this term. He just seems... different. You’ve noticed it, haven’t you?” Harry inquired.

“Come to think of it, I have.” Hermione had a look of deep thought, which she often wore when she was onto something. “He seems more withdrawn lately. But that is no reason to invade his privacy!”

“But Hermione,” Harry pressed, “I’m telling you, somethings up. I have a theory.”

Just then, the door to the library opened, revealing a certain blonde bloke that just so happened to be the subject of their conversation. After pausing for a moment, he took a seat at the table nearest them and began to work.

After checking to make sure Malfoy was absorbed in his studies, Ron leaned in: “Well, go on mate. What’s your theory?”

Harry leaned in a little closer. “I think that Malfoy is a death eater.”

Hermione gaped. Ron blinked a few times. “Well he’s underage to be a death eater.” Ron stated, “don’t you think you’re being a bit extreme?”

“I know!” Harry’s voice was beginning to rise. “But this is Malfoy we’re talking about.”

“Shh! You’re being ridiculous!” Hermione scolded. She dropped her head even lower. “Do you really think that Dumbledore would allow a death eater to enter this school?”

“No, of course not! But what if he doesn’t know?”

“Trust me, Harry. Dumbledore would know if Malfoy was a death eater.”

“But ‘Mione-“ Harry’s voice was rising again.

“He is NOT a death eater! And if you’re not quiet enough, he will HEAR you!” 

Hermione went immediately back to her books, and Harry knew that the conversation was over. He turned around to see that the blonde boy had vanished, but a forgotten black plume remained upon the vacant table. Harry contemplated.

&&&

It wasn’t until the next morning when Draco arrived in Slughorn’s potions class that he noticed his favorite quill had gone missing. Annoyed, he found a less elegant one at the bottom of his book bag that would just have to do at the moment. Potions was his favorite subject after all (even if it was taught by the Daft Slug) and Draco wouldn’t have himself missing notes. He took his normal spot seated next to Blaise and prepared for the next 2 hours of lecture.

Potter was seated on the opposite end of the room with his friends (of course). They were giggling about something the redhead was doing, though Draco wasn’t completely sure of what. Their overall demeanor was definitely different than it had been in the library yesterday. You know, when Potter was wrongly accusing the innocent.

Draco had to admit, as much as he disliked the Mudblood (old habits die hard), she had the most sense of all 3 of them. She wasn’t half bad at magic, and she and Draco were always competing for top marks. Potter may have had horrible taste in friends (especially when rejecting Draco all those years ago on the train), but at least Granger had the sense to know that Draco wasn’t following in his father’s footsteps. After all, she had in a way stood up for him, hadn’t she?

&&&

“Pig head.” Harry hastily made his way past the fat lady and rushed upstairs to the boys dormitory. After scanning the room for any unwanted company, he reached into his bag to retrieve the black feather quill that he had inconspicuously stolen from the library. He fully intended on returning it to its rightful owner; however, he had other plans for the moment.

The instant he had noticed Malfoy’s forgotten prize, an idea had crossed Harry’s mind. He knew that he had read somewhere- or maybe Hermione had- about quill magic. So, after attending class all day, Harry had decided to skip dinner and head to the library instead to do some research. It wasn’t too difficult to convince Ron and Hermione that he really needed to get some extra help in potions, and that was why he was flaking out on supper.

After the way the two had reacted to Harry’s most recent obsession, the Boy Who Lived decided it was best to keep this a secret. 

So, here he was, alone in his bed, grasping his wand in one hand and the plume in the other. Pointing steadily, he readied himself to try a spell he had only learned today. A spell that, in his opinion, needed to be done.

The particular chapter on quill magic Potter had studied focused on reviving a quill of it’s former script. In other words, if Draco had written a letter to his father- or anyone of that matter- with this quill, Harry would be able to read its contents. It was a long shot, sure, but Harry’s spying had so far come up empty. To his knowledge, Malfoy thus far hasn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary at all. This was odd, considering that the young man had been acting so strange while doing the mundane. 

He had barely insulted Harry all term. There was the occasional snide remark or haughty proclamation, but nothing to the degree of their history. Harry had become almost numb without the conflict, aching for what once was. Convinced that Malfoy was hiding something, Harry began to watch the boy. Maybe Ron was right, and Harry was being a bit extreme. 

...but does the apple really fall that far from the tree? Harry wondered. After everything that had happened last term at the Department of Mysteries, Harry had trouble disassociating Draco from his father. The same smirk that Lucius had worn on his face at the ministry had been worn by his school rival so many times before. It was as if he and his father were identical... and yet, lately it seemed possible that they weren’t related at all.

Harry had to be sure though. His stubbornness wouldn’t allow him to drop this hunch, and so without a second thought, Harry focused on the matter and hand.

“Interim scribam!” He exclaimed, and immediately blue sparks were expelled from the tip of his wand. They traveled instantly to the black quill, which seemed to resonate and glow for a moment before returning back to normal. All was silent, and Harry wondered if he had done the spell correctly. Then an idea stuck him.  
“Parchment!” He thought, running towards his book bag and scrambling back onto the bed with a fresh roll.

He laid the parchment out next to the quill and held his breath. Suddenly, Draco’s plume was trembling and began to levitate toward the stationary. Swirling lines of the most elegant cursive began to appear on the parchment as the quill scratched hastily away. The words were an iridescent red, glowing as if they were written on hot coals.

Harry leaned over and began to read what the quill recorded.

The first few lines appeared to be notes, DADA notes to be exact, and certainly nothing to bind Draco to a crime. Harry kept his eyes peeled in earnest as the quill continued to expose its secrets. After the conclusion of defense notes came a short letter to Pansy instructing her to pay attention to Professor Binns instead of wasting her education trying to play footsies with him. Harry’s stiff demeanor softened, and he let out a chuckle. Draco could be such a dick sometimes, especially when he wasn’t interested in something (or here, someone).

Come to think of it, Harry couldn’t recall ever having seen Draco fancy anyone. Not that Harry would be the first to know; they were hardly on a not-arguing basis, let alone secret telling. But it had been no secret last year when Harry had kissed Cho, and he’d never heard any snogging rumors about the blonde. Come to think of it, Harry pondered, it was as if none of the girls around met his expectations.

Harry began to tire after a few minutes of watching the quill write. It seemed the most interesting thing Draco had been up to recently was taking down advanced potions tips. He began to become disheartened, kicking himself for not catching the bloke. Potter began once again questioning his motives, when the quill’s next sentence struck his eye:

“Did you bring it?”

Harry’s waning interest peaked and he eagerly leaned toward the parchment.

“Yes. But we have to be careful. We don’t want Snape finding it, or worse, Dumbledore.”

Draco was having a written conversation with someone, and apparently they were sharing a quill. Most likely passing notes in class, Harry deduced. But who was he sitting by? And what in the hell were they bringing into the school?

“No, of course not. Let’s not be stupid. Bring it to the common room tonight. This should be good.”

“So good.”

And that was it. The quill skipped a bit farther down the parchment and began writing Draco’s most recent arithmancy essay. Harry rolled his eyes.

“You’d think this was Hermione’s quill,” He muttered to himself, pointing his wand at the plume. He stated the incantation to stop the spell, feeling satisfied with his findings, and put away his supplies. Dinner was ending, so Harry had made for perfect timing. Now, he just had to figure out what and with whom Malfoy was plotting.

&&&

Ron and Hermione joined Harry near the fire in the Gryffindor common room after supper. Harry had decided not to leak his most recent findings on Malfoy until he had more substantial evidence. The question was, Harry pondered, how he was going to get that exactly.

Harry remained deep in thought, sitting in an armchair positioned across from the love seat Hermione and Ron were relaxing upon. Hermione had a book in her hand, as per usual, the pages glowing in the firelight. Harry happened to notice Ron peering over Hermione’s shoulder, and if he hadn’t known the bloke most of his life, he’d have thought the redhead was reading. But Harry could tell by the look gleaming in Ron’s eyes that it wasn’t the book he was interested in.

It was hard to say just when Ron’s affection for Hermione had begun. Harry wondered if maybe it had been there all along, a flower that began as a seed and was just beginning to bloom. He was happy for them; Harry knew somehow deep down that they would end up together eventually. He just hoped Ron wasn’t stupid enough to mess it up along the way. Ron ran a single hand through Hermione’s bushy hair, brushing a lock behind her ear. She glanced back at him and gave him a shy smile before returning to her story.

Harry couldn’t help but envy them slightly. There was a spark there between them, lighting like fireworks that Harry was unsure that even they could see. He couldn’t quite say that his feelings for Cho last year had been the real deal; they were flitting and fast and over before Harry could say Lemon Sherbet. The truth was, he’d never felt the way Ron appeared to feel now about anyone. 

Harry rose, deciding to call it a night. He bid his friends farewell and headed up to his four poster bed. With all that was going on in his mind, sleep sounded like a nice escape from reality. As he shut his eyes, he prayed that rest would come soon.

&&&

They were in the Department of Mysteries. Again. This was a familiar dream, one that always ended the same. The six of them stood, backs to each other. They were guarding the prophecy, held tightly in Harry’s hand. Lucius and the rest of the Death Eaters would show up any minute, and then the spells would begin to fly.

Harry could recite this dream act by act. Sure enough, Harry heard the voice of Lucius Malfoy before them, demanding that he hand over the prophecy. Harry took a deep breath. “it’s just a dream,” he reminded himself, and with a deep inspiration, he refused.

Then they began running. Neville and Luna weren’t the fastest, so they took guard from the back as the friends made their way along the rows and rows of glowing glass balls. As Voldemort’s right hand men began gaining on them, spells were cast in closer proximity and the shelves all around them began tumbling. One after another they crashed like dominos, narrowly missing the group as they increased their speed.

Then, they were surrounded. Lucius was blocking Harry; two more masked men were armed and pointing at Ginny and Hermione.

This was the part that Harry dreaded. It hadn’t even actually happened when the six were in the Department of Mysteries, but his nightmare played it so. In this scene, Harry would refuse once more to hand over the prophecy. Instead, he would intentionally break it. In response, Lucius and the other death eaters would kill his friends. And Harry would be alone right before he’d wake up drenched in sweat.

This time, however, was different. Something small, something subtle, had changed. Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he was sure. Malfoy demanded the prophecy, and Harry destroyed it. But then, there was a pause. And right when his friends should have been dying, there were foot steps. Everyone turned to see the slender blonde that stepped from the shadows: Draco.

“Ah, my son, I’m glad to see you could join us,” Lucius greeted. Harry noticed the deep pit that had grown in his stomach, confirming his suspicions. Draco smirked that Malfoy smirk, then looked deeply at Harry. For a moment, Harry was sure he saw something in Draco’s eyes that he’d never seen before: fear.

“Harry,” Draco said, and everyone was quiet. Then, he turned to face his father before quickly yelling “Expelliarmus!”

Draco had disarmed Lucius Malfoy. He began firing off curses at the other Death Eaters, pausing momentarily to tell the others to run. And as they raced away, Harry peered over his shoulder to see Draco standing his ground against the masked men. Protecting them. He smiled gratefully.

And then he was awake sweating as always. 

&&&

Sleep apparently wasn’t in the cards for Draco. He had tossed and turned several times, groaning as his mind whirled with thoughts of earlier’s events. The blonde sat up, rubbing his eyes and placing his head between his knees. He had to get out of here.

Just hours beforehand, Draco had been enjoying his treacle tart in the Great Hall when an owl had swooped down and dropped a letter onto his lap. Draco immediately recognized the Malfoy crest viewed upon the seal, and the elegant handwriting that read “Open when alone.”  
He stuffed the letter into his robes, dreading what was to become of it.

Not wanting to draw too much attention, Draco finished his dessert before excusing himself and heading back to the common room. As he entered the Slytherin lair, he was pleased to find the solitude he needed. Draco removed the letter from his pocket, broke the seal, and unfolded his father’s stationary.

The letter included a detailed description of Lucius’s plans for his son. Not too obvious, of course; after his stay in Azkaban, the man would do nothing to blatantly incriminate himself. No, there was just enough code to tell Draco exactly what Lucius wanted him to know.

Draco’s stomach knotted as he processed the words before him. “You will undergo the proper ritual when you come home on winter break,” he read, “But you will begin your work now at Hogwarts. You have been chosen to complete the task we spoke of when I was released from prison. You will not disappoint me.”

These were the words that stuck out the most to Draco. Because, he thought as the knot in his belly tightened, he knew exactly what task his father was referring to. He had spoken with Draco at the manor, days before the beginning of term, of the Dark Lord’s next plan to gain control of the wizarding world.

Now, he had involuntarily placed Draco in the center of it. This was the farthest place from where he wanted, where he needed, to be. Draco crumbled the paper in his left hand as the pit in his abdomen transformed into ire. He threw the letter into the fire, watching it blaze and wishing that it would be as easy to remove himself from this mess.

&&&

Draco stood up abruptly from his four poster bed. If he couldn’t sleep, he damn sure wouldn’t be stuck wasting time in his sheets. Grabbing his cloak, he decided to take a walk to clear his mind. Lord knows he needed it.

He exited the common room and made his way through the dungeons inconspicuously, avoiding Filch and Mrs. Norris. With thoughts of his father’s letter, the air seemed to become thick around him. Draco decided the best place to breathe in the crisp night air would be the astronomy tower, so he began the ascent hastily.

&&&

It had to be 2, maybe 3 am. Harry was always rattled by nightmares, but this one seemed to shake him to the Core. Seeing Draco in that role, with his eyes soft and honest, had done something to Harry’s insides. Draco had been his enemy, his rival even, but never his protector. It made Harry feel fuzzy, like he’d seen some hidden part of Draco that no one else believed in. Did Harry?

He needed to get some air. He felt confused and startled by this new premonition, and part of him wanted to run from it. With one hand retrieving the invisibility cloak, Harry checked the Marauder’s map for any sign of Filch prowling about. It appeared that he was patrolling the trophy room, which was far enough away from Harry’s destination: the astronomy tower. When he peered in that direction, however, he was startled to find the name “Draco Malfoy” already plotted there. Even more unsettling was the name that appeared next to it.


	2. Eavesdropping & False Conclusions

Draco had only been perched on the edge of the tower for a few minutes when he heard foot steps approaching. Startled, he jumped back and crouched along the wall of the tower. There was nowhere to hide here; surely he was about to be caught by Filch or maybe McGonagall. The face that appeared at the top of the stairs, however, was neither. A mop of greasy black hair atop a pale face and black robes stood before Draco. With a sigh of relief, he separated himself from the wall and stepped forward to greet his Godfather.

“What are you doing up here?” Draco asked earnestly, curiosity overtaking relief.

“I should ask you the same question,,” replied Professor Snape, crossing his path to take a seat on the edge of the tower.  
“Come, Malfoy. We need to speak.”

Draco took his spot next to the Head of Slytherin obediently.  
“I know about the Dark Lord’s plans for you, Draco,” Snape began, “And I may be able to help.”

&&&

Harry quickly exited through the portrait hole and cloaked himself. It was far too late for any of his Gryffindor counterparts to notice his absence, and for that he was grateful. Harry had a feeling that whatever he was about to witness would be crucial in his personal investigation of Draco Malfoy. Determinedly, he began the trek toward the astronomy tower. 

&&&

“I’m assuming you have been informed of the details regarding the Dark Lord’s recent decision,” Snape began, rigid as always.

Draco swallowed what little saliva was left in his throat, leaving his mouth bone dry. The pit in his stomach returned with a thud.

“Not fully, no,” he began carefully, “But I’ve come to understand that he’s chosen me. He’s chosen me to...”

The words fell from his tongue, becoming lost somewhere between Professor Snape and the reality of Draco’s current situation. The young boy paled as his next statement formed once more, an ache in his throat blocking his intent to speak. 

It was just then that Draco realized as the hollow feeling in his abdomen spread outward, wrapping around his organs and paralyzing his diaphragm, exactly what it was: fear. Fear for what was happening. Fear of what was going to come. Even fear of his father and his Godfather before him.

Draco hadn’t dared to confide in Snape. He was just as dedicated as Lucius, if not more, to the Dark Lord. The blonde knew, because the Professor was indeed family, that his stay at Hogwarts was nothing more than a front to spy for Voldemort. Draco had attempted to keep his icy visage during every defense class, careful not to show any difference in demeanor toward the teacher.

Here, with his legs hanging over the edge of the tower, Draco felt the weight of all that was expected of him come crashing down unforgivingly. The knot in his throat rose and shifted to behind his eyes, creating tears that he desperately tried to withhold. He didn’t dare breathe- with the state of things, his facade could crumble at any second. It was too much.

There was a swelling in Draco’s chest as he drew in a sharp breath and attempted to answer his Godfather once more. “He wants me...” the tears began to spill, running in streaks down his face.  
“He wants me to kill Dumbledore!”

The words perforated the air, making permanent the change that had occurred within the Slytherin boy. Now that the statement was out, there was no going back. Draco had to do something, whether he fulfilled Voldemort’s destiny or kept his new alliance. He could no longer sit in the shadows idly, hiding from his father and playing Switzerland in the war. Action would have to be taken, all consequences entailed. Courage had never been Draco’s strong point, shrewd as he was. And, with Snape in close proximity, he had a decision to make.

Draco tried to choke back the tears that had already fallen, but the boy was a waterfall with a broken dam. He buried his face in his hands, digging his elbows into the front of his thighs. What would become of this? Could Draco pass off that he was just stressed, and that he devotion to the Dark lord was most definitely not faltering? Snape was a brilliant Occlumens, and even better at Legilimency; Draco’s lying was transparent at best.

“Draco,” the Professor began as the boy before him crumbled, “I have been part of your life since you were born. Your father and I were initiated to become Death Eaters around a similar time. This mark-“ he lifted up the sleeve of his robe- “Remains upon me. I know you better than you think, son. And I know your...predicament.”

Draco snapped his head upward, gaping. “What are you talking about?” He spat hastily, praying he hadn’t been caught.

“Do you really think you’ve been so inconspicuous with your actions that I wouldn’t come to know you’ve switched sides, Draco?”

Draco peered at the Professor, awestruck. “How-how did you...”

“You act as if I don’t see you everyday. You keep to yourself more now than I’ve seen you in the past 16 years. You don’t keep in contact with your parents. You show no more interest in the dark arts than a Hufflepuff, for God’s sake. I don’t think I’ve seen you insult Potter once all term. Pathetic, really.” He paused, he mouth turning up into his infamous smirk.

Malfoy, who’s tears had run dry from shock, sat numbly. This was it. He thought every move had been so calculated, and he’d been out-slytherined by his own Godfather.

“Like I said,” Snape continued, “I might be able to help.”

&&&

Harry removed the invisibility cloak as he began to climb the hundreds of steps up the astronomy tower. Spiraling upward, he hastily made way to the two beings he knew to be seated at the top. As he approached his destination, he re-cloaked himself and slowed to a stop, peering through the cracks in the floor above him.

&&&

“Help me? How?” Draco wiped his face on the posterior surface of his sleeve.

“If you put your trust in the right individuals, you can be protected.” Snape informed, staring hard at the boy. Draco felt his godfather’s eyes seep through him, as if he was peering right into his soul.

Understanding came to Draco immediately. “Wait, so that means you’re not-“

Snape put one finger over his lips to silence Draco. “No. A Slytherin prides himself upon self-preservation, and I suggest that you preserve yourself, and your values, accordingly.”

Draco’s jaw dropped, still trying to process the news before him. “So you’ll help me, then, sir?”

&&&

Harry strained his ears to listen to the conversation between the two individuals situated above him.

What exactly did Draco need help with? Was it to bring whatever object he had written about with his quill to the school?

“...you can be protected.” Harry tried to make sense of Snape’s words, and gasped at his conclusion.

Snape must truly be a Death Eater, and now he was helping Draco with Voldemort’s work inside Hogwarts! His pulse intensified, rapidly reflecting the situation before him. 

“Wait, so that means you’re not-“

Harry deciphered Draco’s words, deciding that he meant “you’re not with Dumbledore?”

“No...”

Oh my god, Harry was right. Snape was against Dumbledore all along, only a member of the Order to play spy for Voldemort.

At the end of the statement, Harry was boiling. What values could Malfoy possible have? He was a bloody death eater, for Merlin’s sake! Rage welled up at his presumption, Harry’s Gryffindor impulse causing him to run with his first thought.

“If you change your mind again, I will be of no assistance to you. Make sure that your commitment is final. And Draco,” Snape stood, ready to exit. “Guard your every move. They will be watching.”

“Thank you, sir.” Said Draco, “I won’t let you down.”

The Professor nodded once in acknowledgment, then made his way back down the astronomy tower. Harry held his breath, afraid that with any minute movement Snape would discover him. His body was rigid, every nerve stiffened as he watched the professor’s black robes trape the stairs. Harry exhaled as Snape exited his line of sight, then returned his gaze to the boy above. The coarse field of view from between the floor boards allowed Harry to see very little of Malfoy. From his small perspective, he made out a figure, tall and slender, with both knees pulled tightly to his chest. For a moment, all was still, but then Harry noticed another detail of his subject. Malfoy’s shoulders were rising and falling slightly, as if he was... was Malfoy crying?

Harry craned his neck, squinting and attempting to get a better view. No way, Harry assured himself, it wouldn’t make sense for him to sob like he so appeared to be.

Malfoy was a Death Eater; Harry had just proven that. He was haughty and determined; never fragile. The blonde had been Harry’s rival since day one, and in a sense Harry felt as if he knew the boy just as well as a friend. Who was this delicate boy, crumbling before him?

Malfoy rose after a few moments and began the descent to ground level. Keeping a safe distance, Harry was still able to see quite plainly that Malfoy’s eyes were swollen and red.

Unable to make sense of it all, he waited a few minutes before leaving the tower himself. It was going to be a long few hours until dawn.

&&&

Harry rubbed his eyes and propped up on one elbow, reaching for his glasses. Light streamed through the window, illuminating a dormitory full of empty beds. He groaned, unhappy that he’d overslept and most likely missed half of breakfast. It seemed he had just shut his eyes for a few minutes, unable to completely relax after witnessing last night’s conversation.

Harry hurriedly dressed himself and rushed to the Great Hall, hair even messier than usual. Ron and Hermione were still seated at the Gryffindor table, finishing up toast and marmalade.

“Well, looky there ‘Mione, it’s sleeping beauty himself!” Ron greeted playfully. “Were you up last night or what?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied shortly, spreading marmalade on his toast. For some reason he didn’t feel like telling his friends about his outing. He couldn’t quite place it, but the entire event felt private for some reason. Harry decided he’d re-visit that thought later.

Ron looked at Hermione and shrugged. “Well, you ready for quidditch practice this evening? It’s our last round before we beat Slytherin this weekend!”

Oh, crap. Quidditch. With all of his Malfoy stalking, Harry had completely forgotten about the big match on Saturday. The one in which he would have to play against Draco...  
Why did that make him so uncomfortable? Harry shook the feeling away, taking a bite of his toast. “Totally.”

Class dragged on, minutes ticking like hours. Harry indulged on contemplating the night before during the lecture of Professor Binns, who didn’t notice half the class sleeping anyway.

Harry was convinced that the words he heard last night were more than enough to prove his theory on Malfoy. He should feel victorious, heroic even. And yet, Harry felt...odd. The image of Draco, so fragile and broken, remained within his psyche. It made him feel empty, combined with some other emotion: longing. Yes, that was it. Harry wanted nothing more than to comfort the boy, to tell him that he wasn’t alone in his suffering. Harry had seen that face- Draco’s face- in the mirror one too many times. Desire welled within him, overcoming all other emotion. He choked it down accordingly, reassuring himself that he was just tired and that Malfoy was most definitely NOT what he wanted to comfort. Console. Hold.

Harry placed his palms at his temples before resting his head on the desk. Tired, he reminded himself. He was just extremely...exhausted...

He must’ve nodded off, because the next thing he heard was Luna Lovegood’s airy voice saying “Wotcher, Harry! I believe class is over now. Did the Nargles keep you up last night?”

Harry glanced around the classroom. They were the only two remaining, which meant that Harry was going to have to run to make it to Potions. “Thanks, Luna,” he nodded in her direction, gathering his things. “I guess they did.”

Luna began explaining her far off solutions for dealing with the fantasy creatures, but Harry was already halfway through the classroom door. “Gotta go! See you later, Luna!” 

Huffing and puffing, he arrived at Professor Slughorn’s door with seconds to spare.

&&&

Draco could hardly focus. He pulled out his supplies, ready to trudge through potions when he noticed a very frazzled harry enter the room. His hair was even more of an abomination than it usually was, and the way he rubbed his eyes suggested that he too didn’t sleep the night before. He took his usual spot next to the Weasel and began rummaging through his things, pulling out the lessons’s necessary supplies. Draco gazed at him curiously, not used to seeing Potter so disheveled. It was at this moment that Harry peered upward, green eyes meeting gray. For a split second, all was silent; eyes were locked and time ceased to exist. For some reason, and he wasn’t sure why, Draco felt his heart skip a beat.

“Everyone turn to page five hundred and thirty eight!” A cheerful Slughorn caused both boys to start, immediately breaking the stare and turning to each’s textbook. Draco suddenly realized that he’d been holding his breath and inhaled accordingly. Blaise gave him a questioning look; Draco shrugged in response. The truth was, even he wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened.

&&&

“I spoke to Draco Malfoy last night, Albus.” Severus Snape took a seat in front of the Head Master’s desk. It was cluttered with all kinds of gadgets and magical trinkets; it was a mystery how the old man could navigate around it. That was the charm of Albus Dumbledore, however. As eccentric as he may have been, the old wizard always seemed to find a way. The head master peered up from his spectacles, interested to hear what the Slytherin had learned.

“It turns out that my suspicions were correct,” Snape continued, “The boy has allegiance with our side.”

“Ah, yes. I was hoping he would come around. I know how much the boy means to you.”

“What do you suppose we do, Albus? Hide him? Use him as a spy?” He paused. “We may not have much time to formulate a plan of action.”

“No, no. We will not use Draco; it’d be much too risky for the boy. We need to keep him safe. He knows more about his father than either of us. That knowledge alone is useful to our cause.” The Head Master stroked his floor length beard. Dumbledore paused once more, lost in thought. 

“Have the boy write to his father. He will need to pretend a little while longer. Draco will say that he is plotting to kill me and that things are looking swell. In the mean time, I will think of our next move. He will be safe as long as he is here, at Hogwarts.”

Snape nodded, then stood to exit.

“You know, Severus,” Dumbledore finished, “I never doubted that Draco would be the opposite of his father. He’s got far too much light within him to remain in darkness.”

&&&

Quidditch practice was surprisingly successful. With everything clouding his mind, Harry was sure it would be a disaster, but the whole team seemed to pull through excitedly. The desire to beat Slytherin held prevalent in the air, signaled by several high fives and motivated cheers for each other. Ginny held nothing back as she mastered all of the game plans that she and Harry had drawn up together. Even she couldn’t slip past Ron, who was keeping the goal posts with pride. Dean was flying right beside her, a smile lit on his face as he watched the redhead’s hair fly in the wind. Dean Thomas was not the most talented chaser by any means, but his desire to win and supportive morale was invaluable. The beaters, Coote and Peaks, were even worse, but Harry supposed he was being overly critical at the absence of Fred and George. The remaining chaser, Demelza, was no match for Ginny but kept right in line with Dean. Altogether their team was not terrible, and Harry supposed they’d have a chance at the Quidditch Cup if things continued on task.

Harry would have to seek against malfoy tomorrow, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. In potions earlier, their eyes had connected; Harry was sure of it. He knew that it had indeed occurred because of the odd rush he had felt at the time. It was unexpected, irrational, and completely puzzling, but it affected Harry all the same. His pulse had quickened, stomach lurched, and a tingling sensation had trickled from his belly up into his cheeks. He wondered at first if his symptoms were side effects of a new level of anger toward Malfoy, what with all of the Death Eater theories and non-theories, but this thought was eventually discarded. Because, Harry concluded, if those were signs of ire than he would have never kissed Cho Chang in 5th year. And, as stupid as it was, and as much as Harry wanted to deny it, the Chosen One just couldn’t seem to get those grey eyes to leave his mind.


	3. Wet Dreams & Smiles

It was dark in the Department of Mysteries as Harry and his friends were chased by the Death Eaters. He was almost expecting the familiar nightmare, sure that he wouldn’t get by with a night of dreamless sleep. The teenagers became surrounded, and Harry intentionally destroyed the prophecy. He prayed silently for those footsteps, Draco’s foot steps, to come and rescue them once more. But they never came.

Harry’s heart raced, anticipating the worst as the seconds ticked by in succession. Almost as if in slow motion, Lucius’s wand began to rise and prepare for the killing curse that was to follow. Harry could hear his pulse throbbing in his head, but he couldn’t seem to move. The wand was pointing straight at eye level now, and Lucius Malfoy’s lips opened to speak when there was a loud crack behind all of them. 

“Expelliarmus!” The voice of Draco Malfoy brought Harry back to real time. His father’s wand flew laterally from his hand, leaving the man powerless. Harry stole a glance backward and viewed a very smug Draco, proud of himself and his deception.

Harry smiled, thankful to see that the bloke had arrived, somehow miraculously, in the nick of time. He could expect the rest of the dream to flow smoothly now; Draco would tell them to run, and Harry would awaken sweaty and confused. But that wasn’t happening.

Harry at least expected someone to fire a curse, to try to take his friends’ lives, but all was silent. It wasn’t until he looked closer that he realized no one was moving. Time was at a standstill, frozen with Lucius Malfoy unarmed and his friends safe. Harry took a step forward, testing the waters to see if anyone else would react. Hermione’s expression was a worried one, accompanied like stone by Ron’s large eyes and gape. Luna’s statuesque figure was next to Ginny’s, and Neville surprisingly looked calm. All of the masked men were motionlessly pointing their wands at the group. In fact, The only one who wasn’t frozen...was Draco.

“Harry,” he started, in the same silky tone from the previous dream. “We will win this war.” He took a step forward, closing the gap between them.

“Draco, I- I don’t understand,” Harry stammered, struggling to get his words out now that those grey eyes were upon him. “You’re a Death Eater. I heard you talking to Snape. What happened?”

The blonde confidently sealed the space between them, placing himself so close to Harry that he could appreciate the minty fresh scent of Draco’s breath. Just a bit taller, he peered down into green eyes that were hesitant and uncertain.

“You bloody Gryffindors are so rash,” Draco whispered seductively, his face leaning impossibly close to Harry’s.   
“Everything isn’t as it seems, you know.” The Slytherin’s expression was serious, intending for his message to stick.

A feeling of comfort washed over the raven haired boy. Draco’s words, and his intimate closeness, were serene. Harry stared deeply into those eyes and knew that he told nothing short of the truth. The edges of his lips tugged into a smile, appreciating the moment. Draco’s returning grin was enough to melt Harry indefinitely. He’d never realized just how beautiful the blonde was when he was happy. Especially when Draco was coming closer...closer...

Time remained frozen both literally and figuratively as Draco pressed his lips to Harry’s. The Gryffindor surrendered fully, all doubt about the Slytherin’s loyalty diminished. Being kissed was so different than kissing, and Harry had never felt more at home than here. Not even the Weasley’s hospitality could compare to the innate feeling of belonging he reveled in while their lips were conjoined. Harry took a chance, slipping tongue discreetly to meet Draco’s, and was welcomed with a returning warmth as Draco’s grazed back across his own. Harry felt a giddiness bubble up within him, pushing out every dark feeling he’d ever known, rising and spreading throughout every inch of his body...

He awoke with a start, perspiration dripping from his brow. He’d of course expected to rise with a sweat, but for very different reasons than he was experiencing. The terror, the fear, the uncertainty; all of these emotions had been replaced by something eerily satisfying. Harry peered down at the sheets, realizing quickly that he had another problem...entirely to deal with.

“Fuck,” he murmured to himself, breathing heavy with exhaustion and, somehow, desire.

Harry had never known himself to be gay, or into blokes at all for that matter, but he supposed he’d never truly considered it a possibility. And, with the “evidence” remaining from his dream still persisting, Harry had to admit there was little to deny. But...Malfoy? Of all people, Harry had a raging hard on for that two-faced, back stabbing, Dark Lord worshipping ferret? Harry shook his head, slipping out of bed quietly as not to wake the others and sneaked into the bathroom to destroy some evidence.

When he awoke again, it was from a dreamless sleep. Harry opened his eyes to a sunny Saturday morning. Perfect quidditch weather. Bollocks, Harry remembered, the Slytherin quidditch match was in just a few hours. Trying not to give too much thought to his mid-night situation, he dressed and headed down to breakfast.

&&&

Draco was one of the first to enter the Great Hall on Saturday morning, up bright and early for the Gryffindor Quidditch match. He was accompanied across the room by a few straggler Hufflepuffs, one of them he believed to be called Hannah, and none other than Luny Lovegood at the Ravenclaw table sporting that silly Gryffindor lion hat. It was a bit obnoxious, Draco thought, as no one was running around with a snake atop their head. He moved his thoughts to the poached eggs before him, taking a single bite before feeling two hands blindfold him from behind. 

“Guess who?” A flirty giggle’s attempt at surprise.

“I would say the clammy, cold hands of death, but I suppose I’d be wrong?” Draco replied, never missing a beat.

The hands were removed, placed on either hip of the perpetrator.  
“Well, good morning to you, too, Draco.”  
Pansy Parkinson crossed around the table, sitting to face the blonde.

“Morning, Pans.” He smiled at her. Draco had to admit that the company was nice. He’d been a bit of a loner the past few weeks, and Pansy’s voice was welcoming.

She grinned mischievously. “Are you ready to slaughter the Gryfindorks?”

Draco gulped. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to today’s match. To be honest, Quidditch only held The seeker’s interest when it involved provoking Potter. This season hadn’t been so keen on that objective, and Draco was made bored.

Not that Slytherin wasn’t absolutely kicking ass; Draco had caught the snitch every game thus far and brought his team to victory.

Today’s match was different, though. This time, he’d be competing against Potter, whom up until recently he’d believed he’d hated. Draco’s new mindset this term had shifted his focus to larger things than school rivalry, and he’d become complacent to the usual bickering. His rage had lessened to apathy, and even with his recent frustration at Potter’s accusations, he still didn’t hate the bloke.

In fact, when their eyes had locked yesterday, Draco had felt...different. He hadn’t had time to fully analyze the situation without emotion as he normally would, but something in his gut knew that there was change between them. 

“Yeah, I’m always ready to kick Gryffindor arse,” he replied, taking a sip of his juice.

“Speaking of which,” said Pansy, turning around in her seat, “look who’s up early.”

Potter had just entered the great hall, looking exceptionally average. He didn’t appear to be exhausted, nor excited as he began to eat his breakfast across the room.

Draco tried not to linger on the Chosen One any longer than necessary; he didn’t want to fuel the confusion. Pansy quickly gained Draco’s attention as she rested her chin in both hands and leaned across the table.

“So,” She said, barely above a whisper, “Have you thought any more about the prediction I made?” She eyed him seductively, in that Pansy-Ish way that made Draco’s skin crawl.

Completely off-guarded, Draco made a face that must have looked utterly disgusted because Pansy’s next reaction was priceless. Her expression, within a fraction of a second, molded from teenage temptress to a scrunched up pug nose.

“Geez, Draco, you act like I’m contagious or something!” And then she stamped away.

Still trying to process what had just happened, Draco wore a dumbfounded expression when he felt a pair of eyes watching him. Instinctively, he glanced up to see Potter looking straight at him. And, it was hard to tell because he was across the room, but Draco swore he saw him smile.

&&&


	4. Gryffindor Vs. Slytherin; Draco Vs. That Bludger

The stands were full at the Quidditch pitch that morning. A rainbow of green, silver, red, and gold painted the audience, who cheered loudly as the game was ready to begin. Zacharias Smith cleared his throat in preparation to commentate the events at hand, and the players all finished getting changed to line up on their brooms for starting. Harry peered through the curtain of the Gryffindor dressing room, searching for any sign of Malfoy. He’d decided avoiding the boy was out of the question; he’d have to quell his new mixed feelings until he at least had some answers. Regardless of last night’s vision, Harry still couldn’t erase the fact that Malfoy appeared to be following his father’s foot steps.

Draco was already on the field, in position and awaiting the starting whistle from Madam Hooch. With a sharp inspiration, Harry walked onto the pitch to join him.

When all players were aligned, the sound of the whistle screeched and was followed by cheers from all Houses in the stands.

Harry immediately burst skyward, hoping to get an aerial view of the Snitch. He searched visually about the other players weaving amongst each other but caught no sign of the fluttering gold. He heard muffled cries, “boo’s” and “rahs” as Slytherin made the first goal. He made way across the stadium, scanning for the snitch at all possible locations. What he wasn’t looking for, not even in the slightest, was Draco Malfoy.

&&&

Draco flew wildly across the pitch at Madam Hooch’s signal. Potter, he happened to notice, had gone upward, so he figured he’d begin by looking low. He brushed his finger along the grass as he searched vigilantly, pushing Potter from his mind. He was here to play Quidditch. He was Malfoy, the Slytherin Seeker. He could do this.   
With no such luck at finding the Snitch, he flew slightly upward, dodging the opposing players as they raced for the quaffle. He barely ducked a wayward bludger that zoomed violently in his direction but was thankfully beaten afterward by Nott. Composing himself, he weaved throughout the sea of red and green robes before deciding to give a glance around for Potter. Just in case he had already eyed the snitch, that was all. He most certainly wasn’t hoping to see those green irises...or that captivating smile he’d sworn he saw this morning...

“Watch it, Malfoy!” Flint swooped past him, narrowly missing Draco’s right shoulder. Fuck, all of this Potter thinking had almost gotten him plundered. Shaking his head, Draco tilted his broom back and soared upward. He spotted the black haired boy almost immediately and began to study him to determine if the Snitch was nearby. Potter was looking absentmindedly around the pitch, indicating that he, too, had failed to spot it. He hovered in place momentarily, eyes fixated on Potter, when another bludger found itself passing rapidly in front of his face. He jumped, startled, and reversed away from the bloody thing before it became the goddamned death of him. He blamed Potter for his head not being in he game before taking off in the opposite direction. That’s when he saw it, glittering against the glaring sun: the snitch. Draco sped up hastily, traveling towards the ball that was several meters away. The game continued on below him, Gryffindor winning 110-70.

Having spotted Draco’s sudden change in focus, Harry headed in the same direction. Barreling toward the snitch, both boys were closing the distance between winning the match and, incidentally, between their own bodies. Draco tried to keep a safe distance from Harry, all while focusing on the quickly disappearing snitch at hand. Trying to gain speed, Harry tilted forward and accidentally swayed sideways, brushing against Draco’s right humerus with his own shoulder. The touch was electrical; shockwaves radiated between the two like static. Draco dared a glance at Harry, who returned the look, knowing...

They had both felt it. Draco returned his gaze to the Snitch, pulse thudding within his throat. Before, he probably would have pushed Harry, creating himself an easy victory. Or maybe he would’ve commented snidely on the brute’s clumsiness. But now, there were no words as Draco reached forward, closing in on the Snitch.

Just as he flexed his fingers, hoping to catch it, the Snitch turned abruptly and switched directions, heading lower and behind them. A bit off balanced, Draco fixed his posture and headed toward it, slightly behind Potter now.

As they raced ahead, Draco’s thoughts wandered back to Potter’s touch earlier, accidental but meaningful. He continued on at Harry’s tail as they descended to playing level. Slytherin had tied the game, apparently, each side hoping their team’s seeker would pull through.

Normally, Draco’s confidence would have fueled him faster and closer to the win. Today, however, was different. He could still feel the sparks from his opponent’s touch lingering on his arm. It left him open and uneasy. So uneasy, in fact, that he didn’t notice another bludger heading straight toward him.

“Malfoy! What are you doing?!” Flint’s voice caused Draco to snap his head up, just in time to see the bludger barreling towards his face. He attempted to dodge it, but it was too late. There was pain, and then everything went black.

&&&

Harry raced forward with one goal in mind: the Snitch. It was just ahead, close enough to tease him as he competed closely for its catching. Draco was behind, but barely, and he was nearing with haste. Potter focused all of his energy on the match at hand, refusing to re-visit the tingling sensation that remained buzzing through his left shoulder from earlier’s touch. He could feel Draco’s presence tailing him, and he tried to envision the boy as he had in the past: arrogant, rude, and spiteful. He almost hoped that if he were to turn around, Malfoy would be there sneering, egging Potter on and attempting to slow him down. He feared, however, that if he actually did turn, he would no longer see Malfoy. He would see Draco, the charming young man that just happened to have a beautiful smile...

“Malfoy! What are you doing!?” Harry blinked and shook his head as he began to realize what was happening behind him. Coming to a halt on his broom, he swiveled just in time to see a bludger headed straight for Draco, whose face was pale with fear. Time seemed to slow indefinitely as Harry’s heart did the opposite. He watched the bludger collide with Malfoy’s head before continuing on its brutal course as if it was uninterrupted. He observed the blonde become unconscious, wobbling atop his broom and then losing himself over the edge. It was in that moment that a few things seemed to happen simultaneously. Firstly, Harry noticed the glitter of the golden snitch, flitting wildly in his peripheral vision. Then, he seemed to become fully aware of the situation, seeing Malfoy fall from his broom in slow motion. And, perhaps most unsettling of all the things occurring, was the pure instinct from within that told Harry to save Draco at all costs. Not like he’d rescued Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets, or even Ron during the Triwizard Cup; no, something from deep inside his being feared for Draco’s life as if it was Harry’s own. Acting upon his Gryffindor impulse, Harry followed the subconscious pull toward his tumbling body at full speed. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear muffled gasps from the audience and the swishing of the other players’ broomsticks as they pivoted to see. Everything seemed to fade away, all sights and sounds clouded by the image of Draco falling. He pressed onward, diving down and out-stretching both of his arms to catch the boy mid-air. His broom trembled as he shifted the necessary weight forward, focus still stuck on Draco’s limp physique. The audience was captivated, held by Harry’s heroism for the boy they believed he hated. Even the other players had stopped to watch, Dean pausing with the quaffle in hand.  
Harry’s arms formed the curve of Malfoy’s figure as the boy landed upon them with a thud. He tipped forward a bit, unsteady with Draco’s added weight, but quickly found balance. Time was still sluggish, allowing him to appreciate the feeling of Draco coddled against him. The boy was still breathing, but at the corner of his pale face was a large purple bruise and a raised knot. Holding Draco closely (for absolutely no reason other than keeping him safe), Harry descended and dismounted his broom once he touched earth. He sat on the ground, cradling Draco, attempting feverishly to wake the him.

He began with little slaps on the face. “Malfoy! Wake up you bloody git! we have a quidditch match to finish!” His nonchalance masked the worry rooted within his subconscious. The other players touched ground and circled around the two, hovering to see what the verdict was. Finally, after most likely adding several other bruises to Draco’s cheeks, Harry pulled out his wand and chanted, “Aquamenti!”

Water spewed from the holly and sprayed Malfoy’s face. The boy remained still for a moment but soon began coughing and gagging as he inhaled some of the spell. His eyes opened, just enough for Harry to see slits of silver peeking through. He wavered, eyes fluttering back and forth uncontrollably. As Madam Hooch approached the group, Draco’s eyes broke open into a wide stare that met Harry’s. For several seconds, neither of them moved. Then, Madam Hooch intervened.

“Ok, ok, back it up here! Oh, good, Mr. Malfoy, you’re awake. We need to take you to the infirmary at once.” Then she turned to the rest of the players. “This game is cancelled! It will be considered a draw for now. Off, you go!”  
This was followed by a series of groans from both sides.  
“He can still play, can’t you, Draco?” Flint interjected, trying to salvage his almost-victory.

“He most certainly cannot.” Madam Hooch replied, and then turned to Harry. “Will you help me take him, Mr. Potter?”

Harry nodded. Draco, awake but drowsy, attempted to rise singularly only to stumble and fall. Harry caught him by the shoulders, steadying the blonde and helping him to stand.

“Here, Draco. I’ll help you,” Harry offered sentimentally. He draped Draco’s right arm across his own shoulders and slipped his left arm around Draco’s waist for added support. Seeing him like this, almost drunken with injury, tugged at Harry’s insides. He felt compelled- drawn, even- to protect him. Draco turned his head to the right, placing his face only inches from Harry’s.

There it was again. That spark, or electricity, or whatever it was that Harry kept feeling, flowed through his veins like some new kind of magic. It was brief, as Madam Hooch expected them to move, but he was captivated by some foreign emotion held in Draco’s eyes. Harry had never seen it there before, dotted across silver irises like a secret waiting to be unveiled. What did Draco know now, that he didn’t know before?

They began the trek to the hospital wing, and Harry couldn’t help but notice Malfoy’s slender physique butting up against his own with every step. He’d never felt Draco this way, and it was somehow intimate even though they were out in the open. Draco said nothing, but kept that same air of mystery the entire way. He didn’t object to the closeness between them;in fact, he held on to Harry tightly. Whether that was due to fondness or injury, Harry couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that something in the last few weeks had changed everything he’d ever been trained to feel about Draco Malfoy.

&&&

Everything was black and fuzzy. Draco could hear voices, but he couldn’t quite make out words. He knew that something was wrong, but he could also feel someone’s arms wrapped tightly around his body. And that felt nice. He snuggled up to this mystery savior, enjoying the warmth of a body next to his. Draco wasn’t used to such contact. To be honest, his mother had only hugged him a handful of times in his life, and his father rarely touched him at all. Draco was raised to “self-soothe” in the words of Lucius Malfoy. His body flopped down, and Draco realized how limp he was. They must’ve sat down.

“Draco! Wake up!...” this voice was getting clearer. And it sounded so familiar. It was a beautiful voice; where had he heard it? He contemplated this, but his thoughts weren’t flowing fluidly. And then, there was pain across his right cheek. Did The Savior just slap him?

Again. And again. “Hey!” He wanted to call out, but his voice wouldn’t work. He couldn’t feel his lips or move his mouth to object. He attempted to scrunch his face, anything to wake his muscles. He wasn’t sure why, but his head was pounding. He tried to shake it back and forth to no avail.

And then, he was wet. What the hell? Had The Savior...sprayed him with something?  
It was cold. He tried to move again, but he accidentally breathed in the wet substance. His body responded with a cough that seemed to loosen his fascia, and movement began coming back slowly. He started with his eyes, barely cracking them to view a foggy figure towering above him. The Savior.

It was hard to tell, but Draco could see raven black hair falling upon a pale face. And were those...glasses?

And then his vision began to clear, and beneath those glasses Draco saw a pair of stunning emerald eyes searching his own. They were a deep shade, pools of green that tempted Draco to dive in. They were...beautiful. Where had he seen those eyes?

And emerald, that word rang a bell. Through the pounding, Draco began forming thoughts and memories. The color emerald...and raven black hair...he’d heard it from someone...Pansy? Yes, Pansy. It was her prophecy...

He tried to open his eyes a little wider, succeeding as his view came into full focus. The world was clear again, and though his head was still hurting, a realization came through the pain. Pansy. Emerald. Raven hair. The one Draco was meant to be with. It wasn’t Pansy, not even close. If Pansy really did have the Sight as she claimed, then the one person that was meant for Draco was right above him. The blonde’s eyes began to dilate as understanding completely settled over his expression. Time was flying, his heart was pounding; Draco wasn’t sure how to process that the identity of the Savior above him was none other than Harry Potter.

Draco froze, a new awareness spreading down his limbs and through his fingertips. Their eyes were locked, emerald melting silver. Madam Hooch was approaching them, and Draco was informed that he’d have to see Madam Pomfrey.

Draco tried to stand, but failed miserably. He wasn’t sure if it was the confusion or the injury that had him off balance, but Potter chimed in before he could decide.

“Here, Draco, I’ll help you.” He put his arm around the other seeker’s waist. Draco tingled in the spot that Harry’s hand rested, and he turned to face the boy upon hearing his own name. Draco. He’d been called Malfoy hundreds of times, whether they were dueling or bickering or competing, but never had Harry referred to him has Draco. Yes, something was different here, and it was far from one sided. The thing was, Draco wasn’t sure he minded that. In fact, as they trekked to the infirmary side by side, he found himself not minding at all.

&&&


	5. Letters, Accusations, & Lemon Sherbet

Draco’s minor head injury cost him a Saturday night spent with Madam Pomfrey. “For observation purposes only,” she’d stated as she flitted about mixing medicinal potions. Potter- Harry, rather, had aided Draco into bed and helped him get settled before leaving. 

“Do you need help changing into your hospital robes, Mr. Malfoy?” Madam Pomfrey had asked innocently once Draco was settled. Turning a fiery shade of red, the boys glanced at each other while Draco hurriedly refused and Harry smirked. That was when Harry left, planning on joining the rest of Gryffindor at lunch.

“Are you going to be okay, Draco?” He asked before turning to exit the hospital wing.

Draco smiled a small smile, soft and sweet. “I’ll be fine, Harry. You can go.”

The Gryffindor blinked, taken aback at the sound of his own name coming from that mouth. Draco widened his grin, laughing quietly to himself. Harry furrowed his brow in confusion, but smiled all the same. He shook his head, understanding washing over him as he chuckled in return. “Alright then,” he replied, “I’ll see you.”

“Alright, yeah.” Draco rubbed his neck, a blush creeping over his cheeks as he realized his smile had not depreciated, even as the door to the infirmary swung shut.

He laid back in the hospital bed (Madam Pomfrey’s orders) and tried to make sense of what the fuck had just happened. 

Where did these feelings come from? Since when did Draco catch butterflies at the sight of Harry bloody Potter? And since when did Draco catch butterflies for anyone, at all, ever?

Draco had never really crushed on anyone in particular. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had the chance to fancy a girl or two; the Slytherins all knew his status as the Malfoy heir and were eager to oblige. At the forefront was Pansy, who’d had this damn bloody prophecy that she’d believed was about her and god damn...

Draco halted for a moment, contemplating on that last thought. Since when had Pansy ever been right about anything? And the Sight, really? It was a fucking joke, and even if it was true, did Pansy of all people obtain it?

No, it couldn’t be true. This whole thing was a misunderstanding. That look in Harry’s eyes, those emerald eyes... that was a misinterpretation as well. Maybe he just wanted to make up for the past the two seekers had shared. Maybe Potter wanted retribution for being such a git all those years.

...but hadn’t he just accused Draco of being a death eater only a few moons ago? How did the mood change from pointing fingers to, Well, to whatever the mood was today, so quickly? Something was definitely odd here. 

Maybe Harry figured out the truth, that Malfoy was innocent after all. But how?

Draco had questions, so many questions. And even through all of the unknowns, he couldn’t help but wonder in the back of his mind if it had actually all been real. And what he was finding harder to swallow was the fact that he found himself hoping the latter to be true.

&&&

Harry took his usual spot at the Gryffindor table across from Ron and Hermione and readied himself to dig in to the pork pie before him. To tell the truth, after all that had happened in the last few hours, he was absolutely famished. He ignored the bewildered looks of his two best mates as he took the first bite of his lunch, and then the second, and third...

“Harry!” Hermione finally exclaimed, unable to wait any longer and causing him to drop his fork mid-bite.

Ron looked at Hermione and then back at Harry. “We were just wondering, mate, if you’d tell us why you decided to go all hero on Malfoy this morning?”

“Oh, that,” Harry swallowed and took a sip of juice, clearing his throat. “I don’t know, he fell, and I just sort of, saved him.”

Hermione grunted. “Harry, any one of the teachers or students in the stands, myself included, could have used an arresto momentum charm on him, and he would have been fine.” She paused, unsatisfied with Harry’s dumbfounded expression. “The other day you were just trying to convince us that Malfoy was working for You-Know-Who, and now you’re his savior?”

Harry didn’t speak, glancing between the two as Hermione’s speech sunk in.

“We’re just confused is all, mate,” Ron added, trying to keep Harry from becoming hot.

“I don’t know, ‘Mione, I wasn’t really thinking about alliances when I thought he needed help,” Harry snapped back. “Plus, I’m not so sure anymore about that.”

“About what? Malfoy?” Ron inquired, trying to catch up to Hermione’s wit.

“So you’re actually being rational and dropping the Death Eater theory?” Hermione retorted, annoyed at her inability to figure out her best friend’s intentions.

“Well, I’m not sure yet. I’m just not sure about anything anymore.” With that, Harry picked up his fork and continued to eat his lunch. Ron and Hermione knew the conversation had ended.

He loved his friends, but damn they could be a buzzkill. Harry’s walk to the great hall had been giddy, forcing down laughs and trying to keep a straight face as he re-visited his and Draco’s earlier conversation. Harry couldn’t explain how hearing his own name could cause such a ruckus inside of him, and how that smile had turned his stomach into knots. He could barely contain himself, let alone explain such an oddity to his friends. So he’d once again remained silent while Hermione reminded him of the more serious issues at hand. Like that boy who had melted his insides...quite possibly wanted to hand him over to Voldemort. Maybe.

He shook the thought from his mind, confusion bubbling at the edges of his psyche.

“Wonder where Snape’s at? He hardly ever misses a meal any more,” Ron observed, single-handedly snapping Harry from his thoughts.

“Hmm. That is strange, isn’t it?” Hermione added.

Harry didn’t say a word as gears began to shift in his mind. Snape was missing; Draco was missing... Harry sifted through images and memories of Draco conversing with Snape at the astronomy tower. Draco, crying. Harry, longing to console him. Snape, stoic as always... and then Harry knew. He knew where Snape was, and he knew he had to hurry if he wanted answers amongst all of today’s confusion.

“I have to go.” Harry announced, and without another word (or bite), he exited the Great Hall.

&&&

Draco was halfway finished with the soup the house elves had brought him for lunch when he heard the door to the infirmary open. His senses were still heightened from earlier and some lost portion of his brain hoped that it was Harry coming back to answer his unknowns.

But the deep voice calling out before him confirmed that it wasn’t The Savior at all.

“Hello, Draco. I trust that we are alone.” Professor Snape took a seat in the empty chair adjacent to Draco’s bed.

“Yes, sir. Madam Pomfrey is in her office. No one else is in the infirmary.”

“Good. I am going to help you write a response to your father.”

Draco’s mouth hung wide, agape. “My father? You’re supposed to protect me from my father!”

“And if you knew what’s best for you, you’d keep. Your voice. Down.” Snape spat, and then paused to let Draco catch his breath. “You will tell your father that you have a plan to do the deed, and that it is going well. Make it believable.”

Draco audibly swallowed. “But what are we actually doing?” He whispered, his voice coated in fear.

“Dumbledore is providing protection for you. But we need time. And I need you to not blow your cover for now. Or we’ll all be at the mercy of your father.”

Snape pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from his robes. “Now. Write.”

Draco nodded, pulling the parchment towards him and pushing the soup away. That’s when there was a creaking sound from the direction of the entrance. Draco and Snape both perked their heads up, but there appeared to be no one there. The door remained closed. Assured, Draco began to write.

He explained to his father that he’d already put a plan into action for the Dark Lord that he couldn’t discuss through letter. He’d spill the details over break in a more intimate setting. He thanked his father for allowing him to uphold the honor of the Malfoy name, and nearly gagged while doing so. Never had he lied to his father so explicitly, so openly. Plenty of times he’d left out the truth, omitted details, but this? This was commitment. He really had switched loyalties.

Snape proofread the letter, nodding as he went. “Well done, Draco. I suggest you see that it gets sent as soon as you are released as I do not want to be seen sending it for you. For now, you need keep it safe.”

Draco nodded, folding the note and placing it beneath his pillow. 

Snape rose, turning to leave. “By the way, Draco, maybe try keeping your eye on the game at hand instead of Potter? That should keep your head from hurting.”

Draco gulped, his blush returning vividly. Was is that obvious?

Snape exited the infirmary, and Draco relaxed backward onto his pillow. In the reclined position, sleep didn’t sound like such a bad idea. He welcomed the inevitable, eyelids drifting shut and allowing him to fade once more from consciousness.

&&&

Harry held his breath as Snape left the infirmary. He was perched against the wall, draped with the cloak of invisibility. Luckily, Professor Snape had forgotten to latch the door completely upon entering the room. When Harry arrived, he was able to slip inside with minimal disturbance and make his post for eavesdropping. Harry was determined to get some answers, and his impatience was driving him mad. It appeared that Draco had written something- a note, maybe?- under the scrutiny of his Godfather. And that something was located right beneath that soft-looking blonde hair...

Harry had never been one to respect privacy, and he waited earnestly for Draco to sleep. Surprisingly soon, he heard snores drifting from the direction of the blonde, who was still. Seizing the moment, Harry crossed the room and paused at the sight of Draco’s sleeping figure. He was so...peaceful. Harry’s insides lurched, and he found himself wanting to curl up next to him and feel that body pressed against his once more. There was so much he wanted to say to the boy, but even more important were the things he wanted to do with him. Things he wanted to discover about him, thoroughly, intimately, wholly. Remembering his purpose, Harry kneeled beside the bed and slipped his hand from the cloak to slide beneath Draco’s pillow. He grunted, rolling over in his sleep to face Harry. In response, Harry froze, only inches from Draco now. He marveled at the face before him, close enough now to see every freckle, to trace the contour of his cheek, to taste the breath that was present upon each exhalation...

His breath was minty, fresh, just like Harry had dreamt. So many things were surreal, as if he was dreaming. Harry drew in a breath, re-focusing as he gripped the paper and withdrew his right hand. Hesitantly, he stood to read his newfound evidence. Somehow, he didn’t want to move.

Harry unfolded the parchment, recognizing the elegant cursive immediately. His eyes scanned the paper, connecting dots and clueing himself in as he realized that this was a letter. A letter to Lucius Malfoy, of all people.

And, it was true. Oh my god, Draco was planning something. Something truly evil...  
Harry didn’t understand why his eyes were hot with tears as he continued to read. He was incapable of reason as a solitary tear escaped and landed on the parchment before him, smearing some of the ink. How stupid could he have been, to think that the boy before him was anything different than the monster his father had bred him to become?

If Draco was planning to bring something to the castle, something that benefited Voldemort, then there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t hand Harry over next. That was the goal now, wasn’t it? To have Harry dead? Slain by those silvery eyes... Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach.  
Something had to be done. He couldn’t protect Draco or defend him any longer. Here was the proof, the answers he needed smeared on the page before him. He placed the letter back carefully, inconspicuous as before. The worst part of that moment was that even though he felt betrayed and used, his heart still skipped a beat at the sight of sleeping Draco Malfoy.

&&&

“Lemon Sherbert.” Harry had barely caught his breath, running from the infirmary to the headmaster’s office. As the stairs appeared, he skipped steps in a hasty effort to talk to Dumbledore. He wasn’t sure if it was professional, an attempt to serve justice for all of the wrong doing in the world, or if he really just needed a father figure to mend his broken heart. The truth was, he was hurting. He hadn’t thought much since reading Draco’s letter, running on adrenaline alone. He wasn’t crying on purpose, but tears streaked his cheeks and stained his dignity. He’d been fooled by the git’s charm, that was all. Malfoy, he must be the distant relative of a Veela or something. It must have been delicately planned to have Harry fall for him. Wait...fall for him? Did he just think that?

“Hello, Harry. What is the matter, dear boy?” Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, as if anticipating his arrival.

Harry found himself speechless, unable to do exactly what he came here for. He opened his mouth, but his accusation was stuck in the bottom of his throat.

“Harry, why don’t you sit down?” The head master gestured toward the chair In front of his desk. Harry nodded, taking a seat. There was a moment of silence before Harry found his voice.

“Professor,” he started, realizing that he wasn’t afraid to tell Dumbledore at all what had happened. His problem ran much deeper. His fear was of what would happen to Draco if he revealed his secret. Harry swallowed. How many innocent people would he save in the process, regardless of what happened to the Slytherin? Harry found rest in this thought, the hero in him igniting his will to continue.  
“It’s Malfoy. He’s planning something. I don’t know what, but it’s bad. It’s got to do with Voldemort. And Professor Snape.”

“That’s quite an accusation, Harry. Upon what do you base your words?”

Harry came clean about everything, from stalking Malfoy to stealing his quill and eavesdropping at 3 a.m. beneath the astronomy tower. He confessed about the letter, trying to assure Dumbledore that his intentions were pure. The only thing he didn’t mention was the way his heart raced at the sight of Draco Malfoy. Or the way his stomach fluttered when he smiled. He definitely didn’t mention the way he craved for those thin pink lips to mesh with his own, testing the waters of something unknown. Because none of that mattered, not anymore.

“Well, that’s quite a lot of work you’ve been up to, Harry. What have Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger thought of your recent findings?”

“They don’t exactly know, sir. I didn’t think they’d believe me.”

“Ah, I see. And why is that?”

“Hermione says that if Malfoy was a Death Eater, that you would know.”

“A smart one, that girl. Do you agree with her?”

Harry stopped, puzzled. “Well, I do, I just... there’s just so much evidence, sir.”

Dumbledore smiled, adjusting his spectacles. “Things are not always what they seem, my boy. My trust in Professor Snape is unwavering. As is my trust in Draco.”

“But sir, what about the things I’ve just told you? What should I do?”

“You know, Harry, trust is a funny thing. I hardly find that I have put it in the wrong places.” He knotted his fingers in the fibers of his floor length beard. “Let me ask you something. What is your gut telling you to do?”

Harry blinked, shocked by the turn of the conversation. His gut? He wasn’t sure exactly where that was in the sea of thoughts lapping at the edges of his brain. What did his gut have to do with any of this?

“Ill make you a proposal, Harry. I will worry about Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy, if you promise to get a good night’s rest. You look as if you could use it.”

The headmaster tilted his head forward, eyeing harry from beneath his spectacles.  
At that, Harry knew from years’ experience that the conversation was over.

“Yes, sir.” Harry replied, somber.

“I saw today’s match, by the way,” Dumbledore continued, “that was very noble of you to save someone you suspected to be working for Tom Riddle himself. What exactly was running through your mind at the time, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Erm,” Harry gathered his thoughts. “I suppose, nothing was, sir.”

Dumbledore grinned, pleased with himself, and raised his index finger. “Exactly!”

Puzzled, Harry frowned as he tried to piece together the professor’s symbolism.

“Alright, Harry. Remember my proposal, you hear?” He gestured toward the door, signaling the end of their meet.

“Yes, sir,” Harry rose from the chair, making his way to the exit. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Anytime, Harry. Anytime.” And Harry made his way down the spiral staircase, much slower this time. Unable to process Dumbledore’s trust in the two Slytherins, he left feeling more confused than ever. 

Empty and drained, Harry headed to Gryffindor Tower. He knew his friends would be worried, and he prayed they wouldn’t pry for a detailed explanation of his absence. To be truthful, he just didn’t feel much like talking.

&&&

Draco was released by Madam Pomfrey the following morning with orders to take it easy the rest of the day (“and no more quidditch for now!”). His first deed involved heading to the owlery to post his father’s letter. It was chilly out, almost scarf weather. Time at Hogwarts was flying this term, and Draco wished it would freeze, if only providing a moment for him to think. As he sent an owl to Malfoy Manor, he wondered what would happen the next time he and Harry crossed paths. Would they speak, have a normal conversation? Would they lock eyes again, those pools of emerald able to stop time in their own way? And what if, well, what if something else happened entirely?

Draco had hardly had time to quantify his feelings for the bloke, but he had to recognize their presence. It was quite obvious really, as Draco had never experienced feelings for anyone like this. None of his suitors, girls that would make great Malfoy heiresses according to Lucius, met his expectations. They all seemed to bend at Draco’s will, desperate to be by his side. Draco hated that. He wanted a partner, someone who would stand with him back to back, he and Draco against the world. And that’s when it occurred to Draco that he’d automatically thought of his mate as a male. And not just any male, but the epitome of everything Draco had once been against. He could see them together, blended robes of red and gold, green and silver...

Draco snapped from his false reality as he found himself colliding into a face-full of heavy wizard robes.

“I wasn’t watching where I was going-“ Draco looked up to realize exactly who he’d run into. “I’m so sorry, Headmaster.”

“Not to worry, Draco,” he replied mercifully, “No harm done. Coming from the owlery I presume?”

“Yes, sir.” Draco nodded.

“Ah. I’m glad to see that you are feeling quite well after yesterday’s incident. And that you and Mr. Potter seem to be on better terms than I’d last recalled.” Dumbledore always had an omnipotent air about him, as if he knew what you yourself were unaware of. Draco felt a blush creep to his cheeks at the observation. 

“Erm, Yes sir. I suppose we are.” Draco cleared his throat, trying to hide his shy embarrassment. Merlin, it was as if he was a school girl! Draco attempted to compose himself, masking his own frustration.

“Good, good. If I were the two of you, I would see that this doesn’t change. Sometimes it’s better to have friends where your enemies once stood.” He nodded at Draco knowingly, and then was leaving, his robes sweeping away behind him. Dumbledore was an odd one, that was for sure. Draco’s father had been more explicit in his feelings toward the headmaster, stating that the man was “clearly insane” and a “danger to himself and others.” Draco had once again begun to question his core values when he took the time to observe Dumbledore, who, in Draco’s opinion, was clearly not a danger to anyone.

Draco shook his head, accepting the puzzling vagueness that was conversing with Albus Dumbledore. At that, he continued the journey back to the slytherin common room, where he would spend the rest of his Sunday convincing Pansy his head was fine and slaughtering Blaise at chess.

When it was time to sleep, Draco stared at the ceiling of his four poster, allowing thoughts of Harry to finally take over. If he rolled into his side, he could almost insert yesterday’s memory of his body into the space beside him. And it was nice. Across the castle, all the way up in Gryffindor tower, Harry Potter dreamt.


	6. Washroom Confessions

Harry found himself enticed by the grace of Draco’s hands gliding down the small of his back. It was a gentle movement, longing but patient. His lips found Draco’s, joining and pressing as if they’d been waiting a hundred years to do so. Draco’s mouth opened invitingly, and Harry slipped his tongue inside. All the while Draco’s hands were sliding anteriorly. Harry placed his own hands on either side of Draco’s face, begging him not to let go. He responded by moving lower, lower, until Harry felt the zipper on his pants pull open and the cool comfort of a hand inside. Harry continued to snog the boy but moved his hands, unable to grip at the pleasure Draco was instilling. He moaned accordingly, ecstasy welling up within him. Draco smiled, continuing to please Harry in an action so selfless that all he wanted to do was return the favor...

Harry woke up in a sweat, as always, and headed to the washroom.

&&&

His dream had left him even more confused than before. Harry had finally found proof that Malfoy was everything he shouldn’t want, and yet he was the only thing on his mind. With everything at stake, Harry decided that the only right decision would be to force Draco from his thoughts indefinitely. Even if Dumbledore trusted him, Harry couldn’t. So he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast alone, beginning to think of himself as a traditional early riser. As he swallowed his breakfast, he didn’t glance at the Slytherin table. Not even once.

&&&

Draco was particularly curious to see how today’s events would play out. He contemplated the likelihood of Potter being at breakfast so early before class, only to find that he was already seated at the Gryffindor table across the Hall. He inhaled sharply at the sight of the boy, who seemed completely absorbed with his breakfast. As he buttered his own toast, Draco searched for those emerald eyes to meet his own. But they never faltered from the meal in front of their owner. Confused, Draco passed Harry’s self absorption off as the bloke not being an early riser. When he watched him finish and walk hastily from the room without a glance in his direction, however, he began to wonder if something deeper was occurring.

&&&

If he was self absorbed at breakfast, now Harry looked downright uncomfortable. Draco had just observed the boy take his seat next to Granger in potions. The look of concern on his best friend’s face confirmed Draco’s suspicion that something was very wrong. Even from across the room, the boy’s demeanor was a cross between depressed and irate. What had happened?

Slughorn began lecturing on the healing properties of the lotus flower and how it could be applied to different revival potions. Draco was barely listening, his focus dedicated solely to the boy who up until a few days ago meant nothing to him. Now, his stomach was in knots with worry. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his daydreams, this one had never occurred to him. Harry didn’t appear to be paying anymore attention to the Slug than Draco was, although his focus seemed to be pitted on anything except Draco. He glanced around the room, fidgeting in his seat nervously. Draco watched him, curious. Not once had their eyes met today.

Harry seemed to have dropped something- his quill, perhaps?- on the floor. He bent over accordingly, retrieving the object, and attempted to return to gazing about aimlessly. When he rose from the floor, however, the inevitable occurred. Harry’s head snapped up, and green met silver. Time froze, just as every moment had before in both dream and reality. For a moment, the edges of Draco’s lips began to form a smile. His heart pounded, anticipating Harry’s next step. That was when Harry, who just yesterday would have returned that smile willingly, snapped his head in the opposite direction with an attitude that told Draco to go straight to hell. Draco stalled, his stomach dropping what felt like several meters into his gut. What had he done?

For the first time in his life, Draco felt the pain of rejection. He gulped, and there was a sticking sensation in his throat. Were those...tears he was choking on?  
Oh, no. There was no way, Malfoy heir or not, that he would be caught blubbering in the middle of potions class. He tried to breathe, but that too was stuck somewhere near his adam’s apple. He looked from side to side, processing the situation at hand, before making the split decision to get the fuck out of there. Blaise looked at him questioningly as he rose from his seat, turning to chance one last look at Potter before exiting the classroom. He left his things, unsure of what exactly was to follow such an action. Sure enough, Potter was staring straight at him, still appearing angry as ever but with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Draco didn’t dare glance back; he left without so much as a turn of Professor Slughorn’s head.

Draco entered the boy’s washroom, in desperate need of some privacy. He wasn’t sure what exactly had caused him to react so largely to a simple rotten look. Even if it did belong to Saint Potter. Approaching the mirror, Draco studied himself intricately. His face was red, partly from frustration but mostly from embarrassment. Tears that were stuck behind his orbits seemed to flow freely now that he was alone. He had never been one to cry in the past; his father had trained him at a young age to be stoic. Malfoy’s didn’t cry. Malfoy’s never lost their composure. And here was Draco, about the farthest thing from what a Malfoy should be at the moment, watching himself sob.

He was sobbing because in changing alliances, he was going to lose everything. He was sobbing because in spite of it all he was going to miss his mother dearly. He was sobbing because in all actuality, Harry had saved him from more than just a fall. The boy himself had become some what of a beacon of hope to Draco in just a short amount of time. Harry wasn’t just Harry, he was the side Draco was now a part of. He was the future, exciting and nerve-wracking but scary all the same. Draco wanted to hold him, to discover the scent of his messy black hair beneath where his chin would rest. He needed re-assurance that his values were indeed the right ones; that his choices would not befall him. And all of this came crashing down on Draco, a weight no wizard should bear but that the blonde held regardless. And somehow, despite the rejection and the desperate need for security, Draco had felt never felt more sure about anything in his entire life as he was at that moment about his feelings for Harry Potter.

He took a deep inspiration, trying to piece himself back together before anyone happened to barge in. Another breath, and Draco must’ve not heard the creaking of the washroom door because when he glanced upward to see his reflection there was another person behind him. The last person he was expecting to see.

&&&

“Don’t make eye contact. Do not make eye contact. For the love of God do NOT look at him.” Harry’s thoughts reverberated throughout every surface of his skull. He attempted to focus on Professor Slughorn’s lecture but failed miserably as he felt his eyes scatter in all other directions. It had been extremely difficult to avoid glancing In Malfoy’s direction at breakfast that morning, and it was even more challenging now that they shared a class together. Unfortunately, there was no better way to break this emotional bondage that had somehow been developed toward Draco. Even the thought of his name, his first name, caused a twinge of pain within the deep seed of Harry’s gut. How had this happened, and so quickly?

Fuck it. Harry decided to at least try and record some notes on the lotus flower. Merlin knows his marks could use the improvement. He opened his text book, accidentally knocking his feathered quill onto the floor next to him. Bollocks, today was going to be a long one. He leaned over in his chair, reaching forward to grasp the quill. When he picked up his head, however, note taking became out of the question. Everything inside of him that had worked toward building a barrier for Draco collapsed into one big heap as their eyes locked simultaneously. Harry’s breath caught in his chest, and he wondered how in the hell a simple look could knock the wind from him. Those eyes were everything from Harry’s dream, honest and hopeful and reciprocative. He felt his heart tug, wanting so badly to believe that this weekend hadn’t happened. But, it had. And that letter was real. And Harry couldn’t give in to the smoldering that was so heavily upon him...

He snapped his head forward, determination setting in. “Be strong,” he reminded himself. But then, he heard a chair scoot out from his right, and he glanced to see that Malfoy had risen from his seat. Immediately, Harry’s gaze shifted back to the blonde. It was obvious that Malfoy was about to run from something, but from what exactly? Harry studied him closely, but it wasn’t until he turned to leave the classroom that Harry noticed those gray irises were glassy with tears. As if his destructed barrier wasn’t enough, Harry felt all strength to keep from the boy deteriorate. Every fiber within his being ached to reach out to Draco. Seeing him so raw, so absolutely un-Malfoy, aroused Harry in more ways than one. He needed to talk to him, to sort these feelings out. Because there was no way the boy that had stalked from the room twenty seconds ago had written that ominous letter. This was the Draco that Harry needed, that he had to believe in. And this time, he wasn’t going to give up until he knew this boy’s story.

Leaving a ruffled and concerned Hermione, Harry discreetly exited the room.

&&&

“Draco.” Harry began, breaking the silence between them.

Draco whipped around to face him, anger spreading through him like wildfire. “What do you want, Potter? Come to get a good laugh, did you?”

Defenseless, Draco knew that he’d been caught broken. He could only hope that Potter would keep his secret. Evil or not, he had a reputation to uphold.

“No, of course not.” Harry spoke slowly, as if he was afraid that Draco might snap at any moment. Recognizing the sincerity, Draco felt his posture relax. He propped himself against the sink, facing Harry openly. Here, with maybe 6 feet between them, there was nowhere to hide. He could run, but why would he? He’d just feel the same disastrous pull towards Potter that he’d felt this entire time, and they’d end up right here again.

“Why did you come here?” Draco braved the first question, signaling his willingness to have this conversation. Harry too felt himself relax a little.

“Because I had to. Because something inside me won’t rest until I know you. Because I need answers, Draco. I don’t know what’s happening here, but I know that you feel it. What’s killing me is, how could you? How could you make me feel this way, and be what you are?”

“What I am?” Draco felt himself tense again at the accusation. “And what exactly do you think I am?”

“I know about the plans you have with your father. I know that you’re working with Voldemort. And I don’t know exactly what that is yet, but I know enough to know that I shouldn’t be anywhere near you. And yet, here I am.”

“You Gryffindors really need to learn to check your facts, you know.” Draco spat, annoyed. Harry’s eyes widened at the sudden deja vu of this moment, resonating from his words. “I know you’ve been following me all term. I’ve known what you thought of me for a while now. And the least shocking part of it all is that you know nothing.”

“Nothing? Then tell me, Draco, what were you and Snape talking about on the astronomy tower?” Harry felt his voice rising with passion.

“What the- how did you know about that?” Draco paled uncomfortably.

“I have my ways.” Harry paused and then sighed. This conversation would go nowhere on this track. “I used my invisibility cloak to spy on you,” he elaborated, honest.

“What did you hear?” Draco pried, trying to understand the depth of Harry’s knowledge.

“I heard Snape offering you help with something. I figured it was to bring something into the castle to hurt Dumbledore or one of the students. I have something of yours.” Harry reached into his bag and pulled out Draco’s most favored plume.

Draco eyed Harry suspiciously before reaching out and taking it. “Why the fuck do you have my quill?” He was more confused than anything, trying to piece the puzzle together for himself.

“You left it in the library. I used a spell to see what you’d written with it. I found that you were passing notes to someone about smuggling something into the dungeons.”

At this, Draco smirked. He even let out a light chuckle, and, surprisingly felt his anger at the Chosen One begin to thaw. Fingering his feathered quill, his eyes remained fixed upon his hands as he took his turn. “You’ve really got it all figured out, don’t you, Potter?” He grinned sheepishly, shaking his head left to right.

“I thought I did,” was Harry’s response, his face stone serious. “But something hasn’t been adding up this whole time. Because in the midst of it all, you’ve been different. You’re still you, but something’s changed. I haven’t been able to put my finger on it.”  
He took a step closer, braving the space between them. Draco dropped his quill.

“It doesn’t make sense, you doing those things. Sometimes I feel like I know you better than I know Ron and Hermione, but lately that hasn’t been true. So, I need to know, Malfoy. Whose side are you on?”

Draco froze, jaw dropping. He certainly hadn’t been expecting this. He had no answers prepared, no facade constructed. Silence rang between them as Draco failed to answer. Harry took another step closer.

“Okay, maybe that’s too much,” he started, pacing himself, “Who were you passing notes with?”

Draco softened once more, easily able to rebut. “Blaise.”

Harry nodded, but before he could ask something else, Draco interjected: “Firewhiskey.”

Confused, Harry wore a lost expression as he glanced at Draco curiously. 

“That’s what we smuggled into the Slytherin common room.”

Now, Harry’s jaw dropped. Firewhiskey? Voldemort’s dark plan was smuggling Firewhiskey into a common room full of hell bent teenagers? And that’s when he knew Draco was telling the truth, whatever the situation. Because somehow Harry had overlooked the obvious. Draco... was innocent.

Draco must’ve noticed the understanding as it washed over Harry’s face. “Harry, I...” he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry...Draco,” Harry continued for him. “For everything. For spying on you. For making assumptions.”

Draco stared willingly into those green eyes, stomach flipping. “It’s not like I haven’t been shady, I suppose,” replied Draco, remembering the Weasel’s words. “But Harry, there’s something you should know.”

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry. For what my father did to you last year. For everything.”

Harry was speechless, the apology worth a thousand unspoken words. He took another step forward, leaving only a few feet between them now. 

“You are not your father.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement from Harry’s lips. Draco’s heart began to race, thudding violently at the sentiment of his words. It made him want to vomit honesty, hold nothing back from the boy whom Draco wanted to bridge the gap between...

“It’s a set up,” Draco volunteered, though he knew he wasn’t supposed to. “The letter. It’s all a set up.”

Harry’s eyes widened once more, comprehension dawning on him like it never had before. “Bloody hell, Draco, you’re... you’re good!”

Draco couldn’t help but snicker. “I wouldn’t go that far, Harry.” He looked at his feet, but when his head resurfaced, he saw Harry’s returning smile.

“Well, I uh...” Harry scratched the back of his head nervously. “I guess I owe you an even bigger apology.”

“Save it. You’re here, aren’t you?”

There was a silence between them, the air shifting from quiet acceptance to a questionable new beginning. What would happen next?

“Yes. I am.” Harry took another step forward, leaving a single foot between them. Draco took in a sharp breath, anticipation taking over. Everything that they’d felt up until this moment seemed to climax as Harry gazed deep into Draco’s eyes. Harry was unwavering, a rock that, now armed with answers, refused to falter. Draco lifted his chin, preparing to speak.

“What do you think this is?” He questioned, referring to the electricity that seemed to ignite the air between them.

“I’m not sure,” Harry answered, “but I feel it too. And the odd part is, the part I’ve been struggling with, is that I’ve been wanting to feel it. It now feels empty when you’re not around, Draco. It’s been fast, but this is something I know. I don’t want to go at life without you now.”

Draco smirked again, relief settling deep within his bones at Harry’s proclamation. “I didn’t know you were gay, Potter.” 

“Shut up before I hex you.” Harry closed the gap between them, just inches remaining now. The two stood there, smiling stupidly at the wild turn of events before them. Falling deeper into whatever it was that had brought them to this moment. Draco knew it was his turn to speak, but his voice was lost somewhere in the warmth that was spreading from head to foot. Harry had been here so many times before, but only in a dream, and reality was much more breath taking.

“Harry, I...” Draco began, and then a look of seriousness transformed his face. His expression wasn’t negative, but reassuring, and Harry understood that Draco was just as invested as he. Harry was about to say something, he wasn’t sure what exactly, when he felt Draco’s palm press against his right cheek. His fingers smoothed over the surface of Harry’s skin, and Harry reveled in how whole he now felt. 

“Draco, I-“ he started, but was curtly interrupted by the Slytherin’s lips pressing firmly upon his. They were kissing, oh my god, they were kissing, and Harry had never felt so serene. He was suffocated by the immense pleasure washing over him as Draco’s hands moved superiorly, knotting in locks of messy black hair. Harry placed his hands on either side of Draco’s waist, pulling him closer so that they were chest to chest. Harry felt a tingling sensation somewhere down low, dreams finally becoming reality. Draco responded by slipping his tongue discreetly into their kiss, meshing with Harry’s and creating something beautiful. Draco had fought his entire life for a sense of home, and, somehow, he had found it in the middle of the school washroom. Harry leaned into the kiss, continuing to latch to Draco fervently. He needed him, now more than ever. How he had ever survived without this kiss was its own mystery. All he knew was that here, now, with his arms wrapped around Draco Malfoy, was where he was meant to be. The two separated briefly, continuing to grasp each other but hovering a few inches apart to catch breath. Draco and Harry both were panting, partly from lack of oxygen but mostly from excitement. Draco grinned at him, that adorable smile that melted Harry’s insides.

“I still hate you, you know,” he stated playfully, rubbing a hand along the back of Harry’s neck.

Harry chuckled, senses awry from Draco’s touch. “I hate you more.”

And then they were kissing again, two parts whole. Harry ran his hands along the length of Draco’s spine, leaving a trail of goose pimples in their wake. Harry’s touch reverberated like sound waves throughout his body, traveling high and, well, low. Draco felt a stir in his nether regions, passion turning to desire as their kiss became heated. Subconsciously, he pressed his pelvis into Harry’s and immediately felt the boy shudder.

“Merlin, Draco,” Harry paused, and Draco planted a kiss just below his jaw line.

“Sorry,” He tilted his head downward, kissing the hollow base of Harry’s throat softly. “I’m new at this.”

“You’re not the only one who’s new at this,” Harry assured him, memories of Cho flashing through his mind. Their kiss had been brief, and uncomfortably wet, and everything Draco’s hadn’t been. Draco lifted his head to meet Harry’s gaze.

“Harry, please. When we leave here. Don’t forget about me.” Harry could hear tones of desperation in his voice. He tilted forward, leaning his forehead to Draco’s.

“I’m not going anywhere without you.” He promised, touching his lips to Draco’s gently. “Especially back to potions.”

Draco chortled. “Fuck, you almost made me forget.”

With one last moment of locked lips, the two prepared to head back to Slughorn’s class as inconspicuously as possible.

Draco entered first, a smug look upon his face that made Blaise wonder who he’d slept with in the past half hour.

Harry was next, looking quite the same, spilling a quick lie to Hermione about the eggs from that morning not sitting too well. Slughorn was luckily facing the chalk board, too absorbed in his own lesson to catch wandering students. Hermione eyed Harry for the remainder of class, ruminating on the possibilities regarding his absence. She was clever, and Harry knew this, but he was a bit overconfident at the moment. Slughorn had just placed his bit of chalk down on the board rail, signaling the end of lesson, when a thought occurred to her. Her pupils widened, and she felt a blush creep to her cheeks as she glanced between her friend and his nemesis. They were grinning at each other.


	7. Those Eggs

Harry was enjoying his sandwhich, seated across from Ron and Hermione as always. He’d been in a particularly chipper mood since Potions, and Ron was enjoying the time spent with non-angsty Harry. They cracked jokes, laughing hard enough to spew pumpkin juice across the table. Hermione played as if she was annoyed at their immaturity, but beneath her facade the boys could tell she was amused. 

“You’re in a good mood, aren’t you, Harry?” Hermione speculated innocently, testing her theory.

“Yeah, I suppose I am,” Harry answered vaguely, taking another bite before something landed upon the table in front of him. It was a note, dropped there by one of the school owls no doubt. Harry unfolded it, perplexed and curious.

In a familiar, neat cursive were the words  
“Meet me by the whomping willow after your last class.”

Harry tried to contain his excitement, folding up the note and placing it in his pocket rapidly.

“What was it?” Ron questioned, taking another bite himself.

“Oh, um, nothing really. Just about potions tutoring.”

“Of course it is!” Hermione scoffed. “You missed nearly half of class today!”

“Oh yeah, I heard about those eggs, mate,” Ron added, “they messed me up too. Nearly missed all of Professor Binns! Not like I missed much, really.” Harry chuckled. “And if ‘Mione lets me use her notes I’ll be sure to pass!”

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione barked, and Harry shook his head as the two playfully bickered about Ron’s responsibilities. With his friends distracted, he was free to let his thoughts drift to the note in his pocket. 

&&&

Harry spent the rest of the school day fantasizing about the morning. Several times he had to stop himself, unable to contain the giddiness that bubbled within. McGonnagall’s transfiguration class had proven particularly challenging; it was the only class whose lesson required Potter’s utmost attention. Twice he had accidentally transformed his tea cup into an awkward looking bird, a LOON, instead of the broom he was intending to. He gave the Gryffindor Head of House a sheepish smile, shrugging his shoulders as the bird cocked its head stupidly. There was a cackle two seats down as Seamus made to mock him, but his laugh was quickly stifled by his own tea cup spontaneously combusting. How Seamus had managed to light another subject on fire was beyond Harry, but he laughed along with the class heartily. The whole ordeal had put him a few minutes behind, but Harry exited his last lesson with a pep in his step. Now, he headed toward the whomping willow, excited to relay the story to a waiting Draco.

When he arrived, however, Draco was nowhere to be found.

&&&

Draco was trying his damndest to focus on his arithmancy lesson, but memories of butterflies, of kisses slow and deep, fluttered into focus. He couldn’t help but notice as he daydreamed that a certain pair of eyes were burning into him, certainly more often than usual. Across the room sat Granger, who was typically absorbed in her studies, but today who seemed to watch Draco curiously. At one point, their gaze met, and she hurriedly glanced away while her face turned hot pink. Hmmm. Draco contemplated her reaction, but outside of Potter spilling the beans, he saw no way for her to know of their meet. And he highly doubted that the Chosen One was out of the closet, even to his closest friends. He’d have to mention that to Harry when they met, in say- Draco checked the time incessantly- 13 minutes now.

Class ended soon enough, and Draco bustled into the hallway with the others. He sped up his pace, heading down the corridor excitedly when he heard the familiar drawl of Professor Snape.

“Draco. My office. Immediately.” The voice was behind him, and Draco let a painful expression cross his face before turning around. Snape was already walking in the opposite direction, and Draco knew he had no choice but to follow.

&&&

“Your mother wrote me today,” Snape confessed after shutting the door to his office. Immediately, Draco’s stomach dropped well beneath his feet. His mother, the one person he’d been afraid to lose in all this. Heart pounding, he asked his Godfather what remained at the forefront of his mind: “Is she alright?”

“Yes. I’m afraid that it is you who she is worried about.”

Draco’s pupils dilated in understanding. His voice was barely above a whisper: “What happened?”

Snape handed over a piece of parchment, and Draco recognized the curly cues of his mother’s script instantly.

Severus,

I do hope that this letter finds you well. I have come to ask you a favor, though I understand it is a large one. It is Draco, Severus. I fear for him. Lucius suspects that he is lying about his position in the Dark Lord’s mission. If this is true, he will surely be punished, if not worse... please keep an eye on him. Please protect him. I trust no one more in this than you. Whatever his actions, know that I love my son. Know that he is more important.

Thank you, Severus. I am forever in your debt.

Dearly,  
Narcissa

Draco glanced up from the parchment to his Godfather, who looked serious as ever.  
“But...how?”

“I don’t know. Unless you’ve been spilling your secrets to someone, that is.” Snape’s stare was boiling into him, but Draco was resilient.

“Of course not. I’m not daft.” Harry’s face flashed through his mind, but he shoved that thought away. He wasn’t ready to confess his new relationship with the boy, not even to his Godfather. Especially to his Godfather. Besides, Harry could be trusted...Right?

“I thought not. I don’t know what has led your father to lose faith in you, but I suggest that you do not leave this castle until-“ Snape placed both palms on his desk, leaning toward Draco intimidatingly-“it is restored.”

“But break is in a few months, sir. What shall I do then?”

“At that point we will re-evaluate. In the mean time,try NOT to do anything self-incriminating?” Snape raised his eyebrows in that condescending way that only he could do. Draco nodded, and Snape moved to open the door. And then he left, a million questions running through his mind. He made his way, slowly this time, to meet Harry.

&&&

Had Draco changed his mind? Harry contemplated the boy’s earlier absence as he picked at his pork roast in the Great Hall. He had waited all of twenty minutes before giving up and heading back to the castle. His gut tugged uncomfortably, and Harry worried that Draco was somehow in trouble. All fears were quelled, however, as he saw Draco enter the Hall and join the rest of the Slytherins for supper. He appeared worn, creases of worry visible along his eyes and forehead. For a moment, Harry was overcome with relief. Shortly thereafter, however, a seed of doubt began to take root within his psyche. Maybe Draco really had changed his mind. Maybe he was good after all, but Harry just wasn’t his type. Immediately, Harry noticed him speaking to Parkinson, and jealousy grumbled from deep within his gut. This was crazy, absolutely bloody mad. Jealous of Parkinson? Well, then again, he had just finished snogging sodding Malfoy that morning. It seemed that for Harry, the world truly had turned upside down.

&&&

Draco was disappointed to see that Harry had already vacated their meeting place by the time he arrived. Disheartened, he headed to the dungeons to freshen up before supper.

When he entered the Great Hall, Pansy had saved his usual spot at the Slytherin table.

“Come, love!” She patted the empty seat next to her. Blaise was already stationed across from him, shoving down pork roast ravenously.

“So, I’ve been thinking, darling. Well, we’ve been thinking.” She gestured across the table as Blaise swallowed. “You’ve been uptight lately, and you’ve hardly been spending time with me...us. So, we’ve come up with something to relax you!”

Draco didn’t say a word, so she continued vivaciously. “Friday after next. The common room. Nothing to do but hang out with your friends and a bottle of Firewhiskey.” She winked. 

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” Draco agreed apathetically, glancing toward the Gryffindor table. There he was, grazing a fork across his plate, clearly without appetite. Draco sighed internally, positive that Harry was pissed about his earlier absence. Ah, well. He’d just have to make up for it tonight.

&&&

Harry was seated by himself in the common room, attempting to study but mostly reflecting on the day’s events. Ron and Hermione were visiting Hagrid before sunset, and he had politely refused in favor of hitting the books. There was a light tap on the window nearest him, and he glanced up from his text to see one of the school owls trying to beak its way through the glass. Hopeful, Harry unlatched the window and was greeted by the owl dropping a note in front of him. He patted the owl, giving it a quick treat before it left just as quickly as it had come.

Harry unfolded the note hastily, intent on reading its contents. In Draco’s handwriting were the words “The astronomy tower. 10 o’clock. I’m sorry.”  
Exhilarated, Harry let out a sigh of relief. There must’ve been a logical excuse for his absence, and he would find out tonight what that was. As he crumpled up the note, he found himself smiling again.

&&&

The astronomy tower was chilly in the October night air. Draco paced back and forth, awaiting Harry’s arrival. Finally, he sat down on the edge, biding time. He had shown early after all, but it wasn’t long before he heard footsteps approaching. Behind him, the steps increased in severity as they drew nearer but, to Draco’s bewilderment, there was no one there. Puzzled, Draco was about to draw his wand when he saw a chuckling Harry emerge from his invisibility cloak. 

“Merlin, Harry! I forgot you owned one of those!”

Harry giggled and took a seat next to Draco. “The look on your face was priceless!”

“Yes, Yes, I’m sure it was. Prat.” Draco smiled, happy to have Harry alone again. That warm fuzzy feeling was back; he could feel it blooming from the center of his chest. Harry tilted his head, returning his gaze as his laughter calmed into a soft grin.

“Hey, Draco.”

“Hey.”

And then they were softly chuckling again, an outlet for the day’s pent up giddiness.

“Look, Harry, I’m sorry about earlier.” Draco’s expression turned from soft to stone. “I was on my way to meet you when Snape pulled me aside.”

“Is everything ok?” The worry was back, and Harry wanted nothing more than to console Draco, protect him.

“Not really, no. My mother’s afraid for me. Apparently my father doesn’t believe I’m a true Death Eater, or whatever. He doesn’t trust me. She fears for my life.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. He had never known his parents, and had felt sorry for himself on a multitude of occasions for being orphaned. But he had never, ever imagined that someone would have to fear their father causing their own death. A revelation occurred to Harry at just how terrible Draco’s childhood must have been. If anything, the Malfoy’s could’ve been worse than the Dursley’s. His stomach clenched at the thought.

“Draco, you can’t go back there. You can come home with me on break. We’ll go to Grimmauld Place. They won’t be able to find you there! We’ll hide. Everything will be okay, I promise.” There was a desperate edge to his voice, begging Draco not to put himself in harm’s way. Somehow, Harry knew that if he were to lose this boy, he’d lose a part of himself as well.

“I appreciate the effort, Harry. And that is a good idea, actually. Isn’t that the place you inherited from my mother’s family?” Harry nodded. “Well, we’ll have to see. But this Is my fight, Harry, not yours. If they find out for sure that I’ve changed alliances, the Death Eaters will be after me. And I don’t want to lead them to you.”

“Since when did you become a bloody Gryffindor, Draco? This is OUR fight, because when there’s you, there’s me. Voldemort wants me dead anyway. They’ll be looking for me regardless of you being there.”

Draco was silent. He stared into his palms, contemplating the situation. That’s when he felt Harry lean closer to him, whispering in his right ear. “I can’t lose you, Draco. I won’t let myself lose you.”

Draco turned towards his voice, touched. Their faces were hovering inches from each other, and this time it was Harry’s turn to reach his hand to Draco’s. He brushed a lock of white blonde hair back, taking in the broken Draco before him. The boys had much more in common than Harry had initially thought, two sides of the same coin. And with so much suffering, much more than anyone should bear.

Harry leaned in, pressing his lips gently to Draco’s. This kiss wasn’t as urgent as their first one had been; no, this one was comforting and secure. It was reassurance, as Draco knew immediately that his trust in Harry would never waver. It was healing, melting away all of Harry’s silly jealousies of Pansy. Draco’s lips parted, and Harry’s tongue slipped inside, gliding against Draco’s and weaving unspoken promises together. It wasn’t long before Draco’s right hand had found the back of Harry’s head, tugging him deeper into their kiss and silently asking for more. Harry obliged, leaning forward even more so until Draco had to prop himself with his left hand behind him. Harry smiled, realizing what was happening as Draco pulled his legs from over the edge of the tower and sprawled them forward, beneath him. Harry continued to kiss Draco as he continued this path, pressing his body gently forward until he was positioned atop the blonde. Draco rested his head back on the cool surface of the floor, and Harry followed, placing his arms on either side of Draco’s shoulders for support. Oh, god, Harry was on top of him, quite literally, and Draco couldn’t help but feel aroused. Harry had a way with his tongue, licking Draco’s lips and then softly biting when he reciprocated. It was so much, too much, and Draco could feel his pants tightening. He only hoped that Harry felt the same.

Harry nestled into the natural curve of Draco’s body, placing crotch to crotch and resting comfortably. Mmm, the feeling of Draco held against him was irresistible. He felt a pressing sensation to his thigh and knew immediately that Draco had an erection. He wasn’t alone, and Harry found himself thrusting his own erection into Draco’s pelvis. Things were heating up quickly, and a small groan emerged from Draco’s throat at the sudden contact. For Harry, the sound was erotic, and he continued to thrust himself against his partner. Draco was breathing heavy now, bringing both hands up to cradle Harry’s face. He began lifting himself up until both boys were seated, Harry’s legs wrapped around Draco’s waist. His arms were entangling Draco torso, pulling them chest to chest. 

“Oh, God, Harry,” Draco spoke, panting from heated desire. He glanced downward, gesturing toward their matching elections that were currently touching through zipped pants. Harry groaned himself, pressing their lips together once more.

“We should probably stop if we don’t want this going further,” Harry observed, stating the obvious but almost wishing he hadn’t. Draco nodded, leaning forehead to forehead.

“Harry, have you ever...?”

“No. Not even close, actually. I kissed Cho Chang once last year. But that’s it.”

“That filthy girl? I expected better from you, Potter.” He smirked at Harry, who smiled and gave him a look.  
“And Parkinson’s any better?”

Draco’s face contorted into disgust. “I wouldn’t touch Pansy with a 10 foot stick! She’s a great friend, loyal and all. But God, she’s just so... Pansy.” Harry chuckled, relieved at his opinion of the other Slytherin.

“You know, she predicted this.”

Harry felt his face flush, and he separated from Draco as he made sense of the words. “She knows about us?”  
Images of Pansy running around, spreading the gossip of the Chosen One and his gay love affair flashed through his mind.  
“No, of course not.” Draco placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder before untwisting their bodies. Harry scooted next to Draco and they sat side by side, Draco’s knees bent into his chest and Harry’s legs spread forward in front of him. “I’m not ready for anyone to find out about us, either. I’m pretty sure if my father thought we were shagging he’d be hard to convince of my innocence.” Draco gazed ahead of them, arms draped over his knees.

“One day, we won’t have to hide. Until then, I’ll be here.” Harry placed an arm around his shoulders, satisfying the internal need to console. “So tell me exactly,” he continued, “How in the hell did Pansy predict this one?”

Draco laughed, and dove in to the story of Pansy’s prophecy and total devotion to the subject of divination. Harry just about lost it, especially at Pansy’s total confidence that she was Draco’s practically- soul mate.

“God, I wish I could tell Hermione,” Harry stated between fits of laughter, “She can’t stand divination. Says it’s complete bullocks. She’d die if she heard what you told me.”

“You know, I used to think the same thing,” Draco replied, “but, damn, if she didn’t get this one right.”

Silence clouded the two of them, the promise of Draco’s statement hanging in the air around them. Harry stared longingly at Draco, appreciating all of the details that one could only notice this close. The hook of his nose, the sharp curve of his jaw line, the elegance of his highly placed cheek bones; all of these aspects of Draco were intoxicating to him. It was a shame that he didn’t fully appreciate them until recently.  
Draco met his stare, and soon their lips were interlocked again. There were plenty of more kisses that night, along with long talks about the past and present. Harry relayed the happenings of transfiguration class, and Draco almost snorted at Seamus’s misfortune. The next few hours were spent giggling and bonding, each boy forgetting that the weight of the world was on his shoulders for just a little while.


	8. Blow Jobs & Severus Snape

The rest of that week was magical. There were meetings between classes, the occasional broom closet affair, and hands held beneath robes when no one was watching. Draco hadn’t heard anything more about his parents, and the thought of his father questioning his loyalty was enough to make him nauseous. Yes, he was prepared to fight. Yes, he was prepared to switch sides. But he wasn’t prepared to die in the slightest.

When he was with Harry, nothing mattered except the butterflies in his stomach and the occasional (well, more often than not) snog. Seeing Harry was the highlight of his day, and his happiness was contagious. Even Pansy had become less skeptical over the past few days, accepting that the old, less melancholy Draco had returned. This only fueled her flirting, however, and Harry had to bear with the image of Pansy leaning over the Slytherin table seductively at meals. Draco’s face was priceless as he clearly was not interested; anyone in the Great Hall could tell, except for Pansy herself.

Ron and Hermione were enjoying Harry’s good spirits as well. Hermione had become more accepting of Harry’s occasional disappearances, understanding that her friend’s happiness was more important than even her own prejudice against Malfoy. And, come to think of it, he’d been less than terrorizing this term. He’d even become somewhat acceptable as a person. And, if he was somehow making Harry happy, she didn’t have much to object. So, she kept her mouth shut and let Harry believe he was deceiving her. Ron, on the other hand, remained oblivious but did make several remarks about Harry having a secret girlfriend. Seamus bet that it was another Ravenclaw, because “Harry has a thing for smart chicks,” and Ron stood by “Nah, mate, he wouldn’t leave his own house! It’s got to be another Gryffindor.” Both were in agreement that she wasn’t Hufflepuff, and Hermione shook her head restlessly at their ignorance.

&&&

Things were getting sweaty in the broom closet the following Wednesday morning in between lessons. Harry had met an already waiting Draco there, and he all but pounced on him at his arrival. Every time they met, they became a little more comfortable with each other physically, coming to know all of the creases and curves of the other. This time, Draco slipped his hands up Harry’s shirt, caressing the bare skin and raising goose pimples. Harry’s nipples were hard as slender hands grazed over them, feeling the tender aspects of his mate. He returned the favor by groping the roundness of Draco’s arse, cupping it in both hands as he kissed his way down the side of his neck. Draco moaned softly, that sound that ravished Harry all on its own. Harry made his way down Draco’s body as a new thought occurred to him. They were both so new at this, and Harry was ready to cross the threshold once more. He planted kisses all along Draco’s chest, then his stomach, making his way south until he reached his zipper. He could feel Draco’s erection peeking from the side of his pants, and he ran a single finger along the length of his penis. Draco shuddered, mumbling “Merlin, Harry,” and “please don’t stop” as Harry pressed his lips along the same path. Smiling to himself seductively, Harry fumbled with the zipper and unbuttoned Draco’s trousers. The blonde gasped, peering down at Harry and mouthing “Are you sure?”  
Harry nodded, wanting nothing more than to watch his partner writhe with pleasure. Draco braced himself, knowing what was coming but nervous all the same.

Harry slid Draco’s pants down to mid-thigh, leaving only a pair of silk boxers. Again, he pressed his lips through the fabric, discovering the length of Draco’s cock and- wow- appreciating it. He then reached a hand up to touch his testicles through the clothing, softly caressing them with his fingers. Draco let out a small whimper at the sensation, and this fueled Harry’s confidence in continuing. In a swift movement, he tugged down Draco’s boxers and took in the sight before him: Draco’s erection, lengthy and full, signaling his own want and need. Harry, nervous as hell at his own inexperience, wrapped his left hand around the base and began moving upward and back in a fluid motion. Draco groaned, attempting to quiet himself but failing miserably. Braving his insecurities, Harry brought his lips to the head of Draco’s prick and kissed gently. Feeling him shudder, Harry opened his mouth and began to suck gradually, beginning with the head and traveling downward slowly. He breathed in deep through his nose before deep throating him, fitting the length of his member into his orifice. Draco moaned in response, and Harry swallowed around his mouthful for an added touch. He pulled back slightly before ramming it down again, continuing as Draco knotted his fingers in locks of black hair. Harry retracted, coming back to the tip before returning his mouth to the shaft of his penis. He kept going like this in strokes, swallowing the entire thing deeply and then pulling out completely to tease. He licked the tip of his prick, playing games with his tongue, and Draco begged for more. So Harry put his mouth back around it, picking up where he left off, and Draco shuddered as he whimpered some more. “I’m... so close... Harry... don’t stop...”  
He loved the sound of Draco’s sex voice, airy and shrill as he pleaded. He descended his prick once more, lapping his tongue at the base.   
“Oh, fuck, Harry... I’m going to come!” And then there were waves of pleasure radiating through the blonde as he released his seed down Harry’s throat. Harry was almost smug, amazed that he could pleasure Draco this way as he swallowed. He pulled away, using a spell to clean his mouth before standing.

Draco had his hand propped on the wall, leaning himself side ways as he tried to return to normalcy, post orgasm. He grinned. “Wow.”

“You liked it, huh?” Harry confidently strode to him, lifting his chin with one finger and locking their lips.

“Let’s just say I will never, ever object to that.” Draco returned a kiss before Harry pulled away abruptly.

“Fuck, were going to be late!” Exasperated, Harry began retrieving his books from the floor and Draco smiled at his urgency: “Worth it, though.”  
And then they exited the broom closet.

&&&

“Come in, Severus.”

The professor entered Albus Dumbledore’s office after having been summoned earlier that morning.

“You wanted to see me?” Snape questioned, taking a seat before the headmaster. 

“Ah, Yes. I have a question for you. How have Draco and Harry been this week?” Dumbledore laced his fingers and placed his hands before him, contemplating.

“Annoyingly chipper,” Snape responded, rolling his eyes. “The Dark Lord is threatening to return to power and those two are giggling like a bunch of school girls.”

“Aha!” Dumbledore exclaimed, excited. “I believe my most recent theory has proven correct. They seem to be...cordial, yes?”

“I’m not sure that’s the word, I would use, Albus.” Snape returned, seemingly exhausted. “They...are...inseparable. And they think that no one has the ability to see it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in that frustrated Snape-like way. “Just because Draco has switched his loyalty doesn’t mean he needs to accompany the likes of Potter.”

“Ah, don’t be so down on the boy, Severus! I think the two are a great match, myself.”

“Match, Headmaster? They don’t use that word to describe friendships anymore, sir.”

Dumbledore laughed heartily. “I know! But you can’t honestly believe there isn’t something more going on there?”

Snape grimaced, his face contorting into disgust. “And what in Merlin’s beard makes you think that they’re gay together?”

“Just a hunch, Severus. Watch them for me. Should they be following my suspicions, it could put them both at risk, even more so than they already are, with Lucius Malfoy. I fear he would kill Harry himself before turning him over to Tom Riddle with that information in his hands.” Dumbledore smiled, almost joking satirically, but Snape’s expression remained frozen.

“So you want me to watch them...be gay together?” Snape’s brow was furrowed, staring at Dumbledore skeptically.

“In a nutshell, yes. I have plans for them if this rings true. Brings back so many memories for me. How refreshing it is to see two souls find each other, with nothing to offer the other except love.”

“I... suppose so, sir. I guess.” Severus nodded, standing to leave. He was used to the old man’s unconventional, whimsical ideas, but this one took the whole bloody cake. His godson was most definitely NOT gay. Even if he had chosen to befriend Potter, that hardly stood for grounds of homosexuality. Snape sighed.

He made his way back down the corridor, heading toward the dungeons. He had a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson beginning in just a few minutes, and he wanted to arrive before the students tried pulling anything funny. He had Draco in this lesson, but luckily Potter wouldn’t be coming for another few hours. He may have fought the dark lord, but he knew absolutely nothing outside of Expelliarmus, and his marks showed it. He was a dread to teach.

Snape took a sharp right to enter the dungeons, then traveled down a flight of stairs before continuing down the hall to his class room. Lessons would be about to start; all students should have been promptly at their desks. Which is why it brought about a very confused Severus Snape to see the handle of the broom closet on the wall opposite and down a few doors from his begin to shake. Intrigued, he stepped into an alcove across the way from the closet, placing his back against the stone wall and spying to see who would emerge. At once, a ruffled and disheveled Potter stumbled from the door, followed immediately by a self-appeased Draco.

“Oh, Merlin, you have got to be kidding me.” Thought Snape, pinching the bridge of his nose once more. This was going to be one bloody long day, that was for sure.


	9. Professor Snape does NOT ship Drarry

“Draco Lucius Malfoy.”  
Draco winced at the sound of his full name. He’d just taken a seat in front of the common room fireplace, looking forward to relaxing a bit before supper. Pansy stalked in, arms crossed and huffing. She immediately approached Draco, standing before him accusingly.

“Yes?” He responded, wondering what the hell she was on about.

“Do you want to explain to me why I happened to see you and Potter together after I left Divination earlier?”

Draco froze. They had walked with each other in between classes earlier, taking the risk of being seen as acquaintances. Perhaps it was an ignorant and dumb decision on Draco’s part, but all thought seemed to be clouded in Harry’s presence. At the time it had seemed harmless to walk with him; it wasn’t a crime to be cordial with the Chosen One, was it? He quickly formulated a reply.

“Yes, I spent some time with Potter before class.” Draco nonchalantly eyed his fingernails, playing apathy.

“So what, have you decided to become best friends with the enemy?” She scrunched her nose up in distaste, bringing out her pug-like features.

“Hardly.” Draco paused to meet her scrutinizing gaze.

“Well, What then? You’ve always hated him! The Draco I know wouldn’t be caught associating with a bloody Gryffindor!”

“Pansy.” He stood up, eye to eye now. They were alone, and Pansy gulped at the sudden closeness. “Has it never occurred to you that the Dark Lord has plans that require befriending the Chosen One?” His voice was sharp, condescending.

Pansy’s eyes widened, absorbing the information before her.  
“Draco- you don’t mean... did he ask you to...” she stammered, unsure of what exactly she was trying to ask.

“Yes,” was Draco’s reply, and the two were silent for a moment.

“What an honor...” Pansy trailed off, pride replacing her frustration. Her father was a known Death Eater, and she fully planned on following in his foot steps. Draco being in close circles with He Who Must Not Be Named himself only made her fancy him more.

“Yes, well, I suggest you mention nothing of this to anyone.” Putting Pansy on a pedi stool, making her feel more important than all others, was just the right way to make her mind her own business. 

She reached upward, fixing Draco’s collar with both hands. “Oh, Darling. Of course not. I would never betray you or anything that you stand for.” She flashed her infamous Pansy smile, seductive as hell but of no use to Draco or his gay persona. “Don’t forget about Friday,” she continued, running a finger along his tie. She pecked his cheek before exiting to the girl’s dormitory.

Friday? Bollocks, Draco had completely forgotten he was supposed to spend the evening with Pansy and Blaise, Slytherin style. He only hoped that Harry wasn’t planning on anything for the two of them. Shrugging the thought, he headed to the washroom to get ready for supper.

&&&

Pansy spent the rest of the evening up Draco’s arse, to put it quite frankly. Now that she thought he was an up and coming Death Eater, her affection was piqued. They entered the Great Hall arm in arm, a smug grin upon her face. Immediately, Draco shot Harry an apologetic look across the room, and Harry nodded in understanding.

Ron turned around in his seat to follow Harry’s gaze. “Ay, you reckon Malfoy and Parkinson are shagging?”

“Gross, of course not,” Harry replied, instinctively making a face but catching himself a bit too late. Luckily, Ron wasn’t the most observant bloke in all of Scotland.

“Which one? They’re both pretty vial if you ask me,” came back Ron, smirking to himself.

At this, Harry laughed. “I suppose you’re right, Ron.”

A grunting noise could be heard a few seats down. “The real question is,” piped up Seamus Finnigan, “Who is Harry shagging?”

Ron lifted his fork in agreement. “Yeah, mate, who’s the lucky girl?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” denied Harry, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Please, Harry. You don’t think we haven’t noticed you arriving to lessons with seconds to spare, all disheveled and bearing that ‘just been snogged’ look?” Seamus observed, putting the unwanted spotlight right on Harry.

“S’Alright, mate. You’ve got nothing to hide. I don’t know if you want that arsehole to know-“ he gestured toward Seamus playfully, “but you can tell me.”

“Oh, come on, Weasley. If anything, he needs my help. I’ve got loads of snogging experience, y’know,” Seamus winked confidently. Seated next to him was Dean Thomas, who up until now had been focusing on reading some type of muggle book. It wasn’t until that very moment that Dean chipped in: “Your mother doesn’t count you know, buddy.”

Harry and Ron busted out in fits of laughter as Seamus attempted to retort: “Maybe not, but yours does!”

Even Hermione, who had been eating her food silently while studying Hogwarts: A History cracked a smile. She had been trying to stay uninvolved, aware that Harry had no intentions of divulging his secret. Ron draped an arm around her as the joke settled, shifting his attention with a gleam in his eye.

“Anything interesting happen in that book yet?” Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to be coy, but Harry could see her cheeks were tinted a rosy pink. It seemed to be, for the most part, a normal evening at the Gryffindor table.

&&&

Harry was excited to see Draco the following morning on his way to Magical History. They had met in what had somehow become their usual spot in an alcove near the grand staircase, and Draco had decided to lead him to a more private location in an unoccupied corridor. There were kisses, short and sweet, and hands caressing each part of the other. And then there was running, as Harry was bound to be the more tardy of the two.

On their way to potions a short while later, Draco proposed that they try to meet at the edge of the lake after lessons were over for the day. “You know, to make up for the time I accidentally ditched you.” Harry reassured him that it was fine, but in any case, he’d be happy to meet him. And so the minutes ticked by in slow succession, one right after another, while Harry daydreamed of pale cheeks and blonde hair.

He seemed to be getting by at the least, until Defense Against the Dark Arts. He prayed that Snape wouldn’t call on him, though he had actually done the reading from the previous night. To be honest, he just wasn’t in the mood for losing house points, which would inevitably occur even if he had the correct answer. They shared this class with the Hufflepuffs, who weren’t the most fond of Professor Snape, either, though in their kind demeanor would never mention it. They had, in fact, made prime targets for the Professor, and the class altogether lost more house points than any other lesson in the castle. Inevitably, Snape would bully the defenseless Puffs, and the Gryffindors would try to stand up for them honorably. And then everyone would lose points- Gryffindor for butting into another student’s business, and Hufflepuff for not handling their own problems. Not today though, Harry resolved. Today he had something to look forward to, and nothing was going to change that.

Snape entered the room, robes trailing as he cantered toward the front of the class.  
“I assume you all did your reading?”

There was a series of nods, almost in unison. Snape turned abruptly, placing both of his hands on the desk nearest him sharply. “Potter!” He looked beyond the student nearest him to meet eyes with the Chosen One behind them.  
“What is historically the most well known use of vampire’s blood?”

Harry cleared his throat and spoke clearly. “It is used infamously for an ancient dark magic ritual that could supposedly be used to bring someone back from the brink of death.”

To his left, Hermione was beaming at her best friend’s correct answer. Unsatisfied, Snape turned without a word and wrote “Sanguinem Immortalem” on the board. Without commenting on his answer, Snape turned to Harry: “Meet me after class, Potter.”

Harry sighed. It didn’t seem to matter what he did, Snape would never not hate him.

“And what is the resulting difference between this ancient ritual and the act of drinking unicorn blood?”

Hermione raised her hand immediately, but Snape had other plans. “Macmillan!”

“Umm, well...” Ernie began, searching for his confidence. Harry observed Hannah Abbott, who sat next to him, elbow him straight in the ribs. This seemed to help him immensely.

“When one drinks unicorn blood, they lead somewhat of a half life. They are never really human. The ritual using the vampire blood allows the person to remain human, but the lasting result is that the person can no longer feel the emotion love.”

Snape, who had no retort, began to write more about the subject on the board. Hermione lowered her hand, defeated.

“10 points to Hufflepuff.” Snape muttered, barely audible but just enough to cause whispered excitement on the left half of the room. Ron, on the other hand, was livid that Harry’s answer had gone unrewarded. Harry wasn’t surprised and found himself not bothered in the slightest by the inequality. He was shocked, however, by what happened next.

Ernie’s hand shot up as if it were Hermione’s. Snape, startled by the unexpected move, stepped backward. “Yes, Macmillan?”

“Believe me, sir, we are all very grateful for your kindness, but wouldn’t it be fair if Gryffindor was awarded points as well?”

Snape stopped, forehead creased, and slowly began walking toward Ernie. Harry placed his face in his palm. Those damn Hufflepuffs and their fairness and loyalty and bloody hell Snape was going to blow a gasket...

“Fine. You want fair, Hufflepuff?” He spat maliciously, “10 points from both houses. You can call that...equality.”

Hannah ribbed Macmillan again, for slightly different reasons. The rest of the lesson was accompanied by an even more sour attitude than the Professor had worn before. And, Harry cringed, he still had to stay after class. What in the hell had he done this time?

&&&

When class ended, Harry approached the professor’s desk cautiously. Hermione and Ron shot him a worried look before exiting, leaving the two alone.

“Yes, Professor?” Harry began, unsure of what to expect.

“It has come to my understanding that you-“ His glare burned into him thoroughly- “Have formed a... relationship... with one of the students in my house.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat, and there was an audible squeak as a result. His heart raced, adrenaline pumping through his veins as his mind tried to understand how in the hell Snape had found out about Draco. “Sir, I-“

“Don’t. Lie to me.” Snape threatened, an edge of urgency in his words. “I know the two of you are involved. And I personally couldn’t find it to be more...revolting.”

Harry’s eyebrows narrowed, anger taking the place of fear. Snape didn’t give him a chance to respond.

“...but that’s not why I’m wasting my time approaching you about this. You must understand, Potter, the risk you are both taking.”

“I’m aware of that, but to tell you the truth, I don’t care.” Harry’s Gryffindor attitude was at the forefront. Bravery and stupidity at its finest.

“Are you telling me you won’t care when Lucius Malfoy severely punishes, or even kills Draco for being involved with you?”

“That’s not what I meant! I just mean that I- I won’t let that happen to him!”

“You must understand that this world is bigger than just you, Potter. You won’t always win. You can’t always win. And when you lose, you don’t want the person you love to pay the price.” There was hidden meaning behind Snape’s words, Harry could tell. It was as if he was speaking from direct experience. It was as if, somehow, he’d lost someone because of his own mistakes. Someone he loved.

Harry’s expression softened, wrapping his head around the concepts before him.  
“I can’t not have him. I- I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Well, it would be smarter if you didn’t ‘have him.’ Remember, we are at war.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door.  
“You are dismissed, Potter.”

Harry turned to leave, passing a younger Slytherin on the way out. Snape’s intervention left him feeling odd, out of place even. He should feel enraged, appalled at the man’s interruption. Instead, he felt sympathy for the man, wondering who exactly he had lost and what it had cost him. His words were ringing in his ears, echoing repeatedly: “It would be smarter if you didn’t have him.”  
The rest of the day passed in a haze.


	10. Break-Ups

Draco had found a nice spot beneath a shaded tree at the edge of the lake farthest from the castle. This would provide plenty of privacy for them if need be, and Draco was pleased with himself for finding it. It wasn’t long before he waved at Harry, who had appeared some meters ahead. 

Harry shot a solemn smile in his direction as he continued forward, ringing an instinctive lurch in Draco’s abdomen. He’d seen that look before during the TriWizard Tournament and in the direction of several professors last year who refused to believe his accusations of Umbridge. It appeared any time that Harry was extremely frustrated with the inevitable but knew that there was nothing he could do to change it. Yes, something was very wrong. 

Harry spoke no words as he approached a concerned Draco Malfoy. Attempting to keep his composure, he patted the ground next to his body. Harry sat willingly, but the air between them was thick. Had Draco done something wrong?

Green eyes were locked forward silently. Draco inhaled, preparing himself.

“What is it, Harry? You seem awfully... distant.”

He turned to face Draco, brooding but bearing an internal yearning at the closeness between them.

“Snape. He knows. About us.”

Draco’s jaw dropped and hung silently for a moment before he closed it again. Wordlessly, he took Harry’s hand into his, lacing their fingers as he waited for him to finish.

“He pulled me aside after class. I don’t know how he knows, but he does. And he doesn’t approve, of course.” Harry’s gaze was hard and unwavering as he shifted it back to the lake.

Draco rolled his eyes, relaxing at what a minor problem they’d stumbled upon. So what if his God Father knew? It wasn’t like he was going to turn them over to He Who Must Not Be Named. The concept was a bit embarrassing, being scolded about who he should lov-like, but in the bigger picture... nothing. Snape’s opinion was nothing.

“Honestly, Harry, fuck what he thinks. He doesn’t know what’s best for you or me. His concerns are a mute point.” He was calm, but defensive. Harry loved him like this, and that thought hurt.

“I know, believe me, I’ve been thinking about it.” Harry turned his gaze to Draco’s for a split moment before returning it to the vastness of the lake. “It’s not so much what he thinks about it- he can sod off for all I care. It’s something else he mentioned.”

Draco unlaced their fingers and decided to take a risk, ready to convince Harry that they could really make it through anything if they tried hard enough. He placed his hands on either side of Harry’s face, rotating his cheeks gently to face him. “What did he say? What did he say that made you feel this way?”

Harry let out a large exhale, easily losing his train of thought with Draco so close. How selfish it was, for him to feel this way. Every second spent with him was putting him in danger. It really was smarter not to have him at all.

“He said that us being together is putting you at risk with your father.” Harry found himself melting in Draco’s hands, attempting to hold his composure but breaking down at the thought of what he knew had to be done.

Draco recognized the defeat upon his partner’s face and knew that Snape had made it farther than under his skin. He’d rooted him to the core.

“Listen to me, Harry. Fuck my father. He’s going to be after me anyway once he’s completely convinced of my disloyalty. I’ve come to terms with that. The Dark Lord himself will most likely want me dead regardless of whether we’re together or not. YOU have nothing to do with that.”

Draco could sense the surrender emanating from Harry, as if he had no choice. He could feel his own voice rising as he tried with all of his being to convince him otherwise. He needed to. He’d just gotten Harry, really, it seemed that his entire world had been revitalized. Now, to lose him... Draco pushed the thought from his mind. That wasn’t happening.

“But, Draco,” whispered Harry, voice cracking with tears that were forming in the back of his throat. “Think of how much faster that process will be if he finds out about us. You can convince him you’re loyal until you’re fully protected from him. But with me in the picture, that all goes to the wayside.” He closed his eyes, reveling in the softness of Draco’s hands.   
In how much he would miss those hands. In how attached he had become to those hands, even in such a short period of time. 

“Harry, no.” Draco began, gritting his teeth in determination to bring Harry back from whatever emotional hole he’d fallen into. “You can’t think like that. Please, don’t think like that. All Snape cares about is winning this war. And all I care about is you.” Draco wasn’t used to putting himself out there, but he’d done so. And he didn’t regret it one bit.

It was true, after all. Potter had swept into his world and transformed into Harry and lit up the sea of starless night skies that had followed him for most of his life. Hope, that’s what Potter had given him.

Harry put forth every piece of effort he had left, every little thing he had, not to give in to the sound of that voice. It was the only way he could truly protect him. He needed Draco to live, even if it was without him. Even if it had to be without him.

“I know, Draco. I know. I just... I just can’t.” The tears he had been holding back began to flow freely down his cheeks, and Draco instinctively wiped them away with his thumbs. There was an empty feeling stirring about within Harry that was spreading throughout his body as he mustered the courage to stand.

Draco, shocked at the vacancy of his hands, sat with them still elevated for a moment. His eyes then met Harry’s, whose emerald irises were full of pain in a way that he’d never seen before. That’s when he knew what was happening.

“Harry, no- no, don’t do this.” Draco was pleading now, all pride aside. Every last shred of the Malfoy family arrogance was gone now. Here presently was just a boy, raw and open, begging for him to stay. Tears staining both cheeks, it was all Harry could manage to whisper his goodbye: “I’m so sorry.”

And then he was gone. Draco didn’t dare run after him; Potter’s determination was infamous. In fact, He didn’t move at all for quite some time. When the sun began to set, he knew dinner was probably ending and curfew would be soon. Draco attempted to stand, but found that his toes were numb, along with his face and hands. Somehow, he knew it was because Harry had left and taken a piece of himself with him. An empty hole gaped within his gut, tearing him open to the point that he placed his hand on his stomach to hold himself in. To keep himself from falling apart. Eventually, Draco ascended and made his way back to the castle.

&&&

Harry was walking. No, he was running, determinedly to the castle. He was sprinting away from the one thing he wanted, the one person that he needed but knew he couldn’t have for himself. If you love something you should let it go; that’s what they used to say in the muggle stories he would steal from Dudley’s room. But they never told exactly how hard it would be to walk away, to leave when everything in your soul told you to stay. He couldn’t look back, couldn’t bear to see what Draco’s face wore. To see if his heart was broken, a perfect match to Harry’s own. To be truthful, the past week and some days had completely re-built everything in his own, small world. Places that had once been darkness, Draco had brought to light. Harry had felt things he’d never experienced before, emotions that mirrored Draco’s own feelings for Harry. They were so perfect, so right. And that was exactly why it had to end.

Someone so amazing, so absolutely faultless deserved a life without being tainted by the presence of Harry Potter. It seemed that death had been following him lately, robbing from him everyone he loved. First Cedric, and now Sirius, and he couldn’t take any more casualties. He couldn’t handle Draco Malfoy being infected by himself.

And so, without a glance backward, and now profusely sobbing, Harry entered the castle and tried to stay hidden from sight. Skipping supper, he headed to the Gryffindor dormitory and plundered face first into white sheets. He didn’t want to see his friends. He didn’t want to see anyone. He just... needed some time.

&&&

Time is what passed him, flowing gently in increments of the hour. He eventually succumbed to sleep, sinking into the darkness willingly. Slumber had to be better than reality, as long as the darkness was not invaded by images of what he was running from. Luckily, Harry Potter did not dream that night. Instead, he divulged into a blissful reality in which the emptiness was free to consume him.

Consciousness did not surface until the sun shone bright through his window, rays burning into his face as he realized that tardiness was an imminent part of the near future. Without even bothering to think, he dressed, retrieved his wand from the nightstand, and rushed to his first lesson of the day.

&&&

Draco Malfoy did not sleep. He begged for it, prayed even within his psyche, but he was not rewarded simply. He tossed and turned, pounding his head with his pillow, forcing the thoughts of today from his mind violently. It wasn’t like Malfoy’s to give in to suffering, emotion at all for that matter, but it wasn’t as if he’d been the best Malfoy heir recently. So, with that conclusion followed by a silencing charm, he allowed himself to sob. To weep recklessly into his pillow, to curse that Harry Potter with every part of his being for being such a sodding hero. For loving him, though neither of them had admitted to it thus far. For loving him enough to leave him. Fucking Gryffindor.

And there was nothing Draco could do but sit idly and hope that he would change his mind, though that was the last thing he wanted to do. In all honestly, he should grow a pair and move on before the absence chewed him to bits. After all, that’s what Malfoy’s were good at: leaving. Building walls; protecting themselves. It was one of the only things he was bloody well skilled at. Sniffling, he rose from his pillow and began to wipe his face clean. It seemed that would be his option from here on out. With a deep breath, he composed himself and formed the stoic Malfoy expression he’d perfected over the years. This was his facade; his barrier. With only a few hours left until lesson, Malfoy forced himself to rest until sunrise.

He was one of the first to class the next morning, studiously catching up on some reading as the other students poured in to the room. Anything to distract his thoughts and feed the mask that consumed him. Even with Pansy glued to his side in the one class they shared, he remained silent. And, though maybe not very well, it appeared to be working.

&&&

Harry was quite obviously opposite of the former Malfoy heir. The boy was a wreck, deep purple circles beneath each eye despite the slumber he endured. Loneliness enveloped him with each thought, even with the presence of his closest friends. Focusing was out of the question; he hadn’t cracked his textbook in the slightest. Ron and Hermione immediately recognized this Harry; this was the Harry that had emerged from the Department of Mysteries after Sirius’s death. It was as if he had reverted wholly and without reason. Hermione suspected something deeper, but didn’t dare admit her suspicions when Harry already seemed to be suffering so.

The day dragged on aimlessly, passing slowly until the class Harry was dreading the most approached them.

He entered Slughorn’s room with a stare at his feet, unwilling to look up. Afraid to. Something inside of him, curiosity perhaps, was gnawing annoyingly at his conscience, dragging his glance to the right, hoping for just one hint of Draco’s face behind him. Eventually, after becoming settled at the table, he decided to give in, to indulge the sick masochistic curiosity that threatened to overtake him. Holding his breath, Harry craned his neck in the direction of Draco Malfoy.

Harry’s stomach twisted into a deeper, more complex knot at the sight of the most beautiful person in the room. His eyes were forward, complete attention on the professor who had just begun to teach. His book was opened; he followed along pristinely. His hair was perfectly combed as usual, but his expression was something all too familiar to Harry. It was the face of Malfoy, frozen and reserved, pocketing a smirk that was ready to be displayed at any moment. It was Draco before he had revealed himself to Harry; in fact, as if it had never happened at all. Had it all, in fact, been a dream?

This was too much for Harry, and he half-expected some part of Draco to remember what they shared, to turn and meet eyes and leave for the washroom like before. But, he gulped, he had done this. He had wanted this, for Draco’s sake. And he’d have to deal with Draco being Malfoy again. And with the fact that he wasn’t going to meet his gaze. It was all... over.

Harry faced forward, grasping back the tears that had blurred his vision once more. He didn’t move a muscle for the rest of class.

He didn’t notice at all, not even in the slightest, that Malfoy’s eyes were upon him for the greater part of the lesson. 

&&&

Seeing Harry in this state burned like nothing had before. Self control at its finest, Draco refused to interrupt the lecture by stamping over to the boy and kissing him in front of Slughorn and everyone. Keeping secrets seemed silly now, not when he wanted Potter so badly. He longed to hold his hand while walking through the halls, to sit by the damned Weasel at the Gryffindor table, to sneak him into the Slytherin common room but have no one give a damn. The picture he painted, it was of the two of them as a public couple, despite the tabloids and the rumors. And he found himself wanting nothing more than to make it a reality. The desire itched at him, pushing to the forefront as for a split second, his expression softened. The ache returned immediately as he remembered the reality of what was happening, placing his mask back formally and continuing to give Slughorn his utmost attention.

&&&

Harry skipped lunch, realizing that it’d been almost 24 hours since he’d last eaten but lacking an appetite regardless. He took a stroll outside, appreciating the solitude and freedom that came from not having to keep himself together. He knew his friends were probably worried, and he’d have to listen to their badgering at some point. He couldn’t blame them really, he hadn’t even had the consideration to tell them where he’d been disappearing to the past week. And now, why that had ended. But how would they understand, even if he could tell?

How would Ron possibly conclude that his feelings for Hermione were similar to what Harry felt for Draco? How would Hermione, in all of her logic, understand that emotion had overridden everything in this circumstance? He sighed, walking forward. He’d just have to be alone on this one.

&&&

Lessons ended after a small eternity, and there was a an air of liberation among the students of Hogwarts as the weekend began. Draco washed up and headed to supper with Pansy and Blaise, planning later’s events. Harry was absent again, and a pang of worry shot through Draco electrically. He could barely eat himself, but standing by his routine was helping to keep the broken pieces in tact. It was easier to pretend they had never happened if he went along as life had before Potter.

So he conversed with the other Slytherins, joking casually, jabbing satirically as he always had. Keeping the raven haired boy as far from his mind as possible. It was a temporary fix, but for now, it was all that he could manage. 

&&&

Harry had headed straight to bed after lessons, hoping that maybe sleep would liberate him from the suffering that was today. He wasn’t so lucky this time, and sleep evaded him in place of memories that he tried to forget. Flashes of skin, so smooth and ripe against his own. The taste of Draco against his tongue. The absolute insanity of racing hearts and butterflies and that spark that seemed to ignite his world each time emerald met silver. Anger approached him, and he punched his pillow at the inability to somehow obliviate himself. Sitting up, he decided to head to the common room. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well enjoy the warmth of the fire.

After enough of feeling sorry for himself, Harry attempted to make peace with the fact that he was better off alone, not infecting anybody. That this was the heroic choice, the right choice. Dinner had just ended; students slowly began entering through the portrait hole while Harry sat solemnly on the couch. It was one thing to make peace with his loneliness, it was another to actually enjoy it.

And then came Seamus Finnigan through the hole, accompanied by Dean, Neville, Ron, and Hermione. The gang approached Harry, who acknowledged their presence with a nod but showed no other excitement.

“Harry,” Ron started, and they all stood before him, staring at him as if anticipating something.

Harry glanced around confusedly. “Yes?”

“You’ve been out of it all day mate,” he continued, “and you don’t have to tell us what’s wrong, but we have a surprise that’ll make you feel better.” He smiled, intentions pure and honest.

Harry half-smiled at the friendly gesture, thankful that his friends weren’t going to force him to talk about his melancholy.

“It’s in the room,” Seamus whispered, holding one hand up to block his lips. “We’ll have to wait until, you know...” he gestured to the younger Gryffindor students seated at a table by the window. Harry nodded, understanding.

“You in?” Asked Neville, an exuberant grin spreading his cheeks. How could he say no?

“Yeah, I’m in.” He agreed. Whatever his friends had planned, it had to be better than what was going on in his head.


	11. Butterbeer, Firewhiskey, and Drunken Apologies

“Draco, darling, come sit.” Pansy patted the space next to her on the black leather chase of the Slytherin common room. It was late, very late, and it looked as if the party was about to begin. Draco sat obediently, not in the mood to deal with Pansy’s...Pansyness, and watched as Blaise transfigured three books into shot glasses. He then retrieved the full bottle of fire whiskey from his bag, trickling a bit into each glass with a smug expression.

“Ready for some fun, Draco?” His eyes bore into the blonde, teasingly questioning his alcohol tolerance. Pansy giggled excitedly.

“Oh, come on, you two, lets get to it!” And she downed her glass and tapped it on the table. “Refill me, hun.”

Blaise lifted his eyebrows impressively. “Sure thing.” After pouring Pansy a second helping, she raised her glass.

“A toast,” she proposed, “to Draco. For handling business as usual.” She winked, and soon all three were tipping shots. The cinnamon flavor of the whiskey burned Draco’s throat, but he found himself craving more. The bitter accent of the alcohol seemed to numb the area where he’d been choking back tears after... he didn’t want to think about it. So, he downed another shot. And another. Until all three of them were positively pissed.

Pansy was giggling, bubbly as ever, resting her head on Draco’s shoulder. Blaise was making sparks emerge from the tip of his wand, lining them out to spell random curse words out of smoke. And Draco had finally almost forgotten everything. Almost.

“This one’s for you, Draco.” Blaise flicked his wand elegantly, sparks emerging until the word “light weight” was suspended mid air.

“Oh, please, Zabini. Have you seen your wand writing? I’m not the only one who’s sloshed.”

“Touché.” Blaise snickered, Pansy clutched her sides in silent fits of laughter, and Draco smiled. To be honest, this was kind of nice. It’d been a while since the three of them had taken the time to sod off on a Friday night, for no reason other than to let loose.

“Who’s up for shag, marry, kill?” Pansy suggested, sitting upright and taking it upon herself to refill their glasses.

“Alright,” Blaise agreed, lifting his glass. “Bottoms up.”

They downed another shot, and for Draco, the room was starting to spin slightly. The barrier he’d crafted so carefully began to unravel, stuck somewhere between good judgement and alcohol. He smiled, pushing all negativity away. If he was going to be sloshed, he might as well have fun.

“Pansy,” Draco began, “Zabini. Myself. Nott.”

“Oh, please give me something more challenging!” She laughed loosely, her own room swirling. “Make sweet love to Blaise, kill Nott, marry you.”

Blaise’s lips pulled into a cunning smirk, nodding his head as if he’d been victorious. “Anytime, love.” And Draco laughed heartily for the first time in a while. If he had to live without... then there might be lots of alcohol in his future.

“Draco.” It was Blaise’s turn now. “Chang. Granger. And the Weasley girl.”

“I’m going to need another shot for this.” Draco began pouring another round, contemplating his retort.

Another shot complete, and the bottle was getting low. “Shag Chang. Kill the Weaslette. Marry Granger.”

Pansy made a face. “Honestly, Draco? The Mudblood?”

“Well, I didn’t have much of a choice, now did I? I’d kill myself before touching the ginger. And at least Granger has a brain.”

Blaise lifted his eyebrows. “He has a point, I suppose. I just didn’t figure she was your style.”

“She’s not.” Draco interjected, as honest as he could possibly be. It seemed that he’d changed more in the past few months than even he had realized. In the past, he would’ve probably married Cho just because of her blood status. He’d never seen granger for anything other than her muggle born heritage, but it seemed as of lately he’d viewed her instead as Harry’s friend, a smart and loyal addition to his partner.

“Blaise,” Pansy turned her attention. “Luny lovegood, Greengrass, the Patil twins.”

“Impossibly easy. Kill Luny Luna, marry Greengrass, shag the Patil twins simultaneously.”

Draco spat the drink he’d just poured himself, and the three of them were hysterical. Making a replacement drink, they killed the fire whiskey as Draco took his turn.

“Blaise,” He was going to get him back for Granger, for sure. “Goyle. Nott. Abbott.”

“Switching up the sexes, are we? Something you want to confess, Malfoy?”  
Blaise and his Slytherin arse.

“Just answer the question, Zabini. Unless you have something YOU’d like to share?”  
Pansy smirked at the playful confrontation.

“Ah, Yes. Fine. Okay, um... kill Goyle, for sure. Shag Nott. Marry the Hufflepuff, as much as it pains me.”

Pansy cackled. “Nott, huh? Hannah too much of a prude to fuck?”

Blaise raised his eyebrows. “Come to think of it, the innocent ones do always seem to be the craziest in bed.”

Laughing, Pansy pushed Blaise playfully. He did have a way with women and had no problem flaunting it. 

“And I’m sure Nott wouldn’t object to my talents. He might turn gay for me, if he isn’t already.” He flashed his teeth. Damn Zabini, always had a way of turning things in his favor. A true Slytherin at heart.

“Okay, my turn.” Pansy turned to Draco. “Since we’re making things interesting...” she leaned in closer, placing both hands on Draco’s right thigh for support.

“Hermione Granger. Ron Weasley. Harry Potter.”

Draco tried not to make a face, attempted his finest not to let on the absolute shock that occurred from hearing his name. The pang of remembrance hit his gut like the train wreck he was bound to become. He slowly exhaled, realizing that Pansy was expecting him to answer. She grinned slyly. “What’s wrong, Draco? Got you stumped?”

“They’re all just so revolting. Can’t I just kill them?”

“Oh, come on, love! That’s no fun!” She pouted, eyes wide and lip pushed out ridiculously far. Draco rolled his eyes, hiding behind pretentiousness.

“Fine. Kill Weasley. Shag Granger. Marry Potter.”

Pansy and Blaise both straightened up immediately, staring at him questioningly.  
Extremely drunk, Draco’s eyes widened as he realized what in the fuck he’d just said.

“Fuck Potter! I meant fuck Potter!”

Blaise crossed one leg over the other. “I mean, still, Malfoy. You’d kill Weasley over that prat?”

“I positively hate Ron Weasley. Even the likes of Potter are better than that red headed fool.” There was a moment of awkward silence, broken by Pansy’s shrugging.

“Whatever floats your boat, hun.” Blaise snorted, filing the information for later. This would be absolutely priceless when Malfoy sobered up. But, for now, there were more important matters at hand.

“You know what sounds grand right now?” Blaise asked them, a plot forming steadily. “Something to eat.”

&&&

It was half past 11, and the Gryffindor common room had finally emptied out. All that remained was Harry and the five others, and he was itching to know what was supposed to make him feel that much better.

“Alright, Seamus, let’s go ahead and do this.” Spoke Ron, giving the common room a once over. 

Excitedly, Seamus took Dean and headed up to the dormitory, disappearing for a few moments before returning with a large paper bag in each of their arms. Puzzled, Harry gave the others a confused look as Dean and Seamus plopped onto the couch next to him. They placed the bags on the table between the two couches, clinking and clanking as their contents settled. Across from them sat Ron, Hermione, and Neville, the latter of which was giddy with excitement. Hermione was calm, present in the moment but still wearing a hint of worry.

“Alright, mate, open up!” Ron exclaimed, proud of himself for planning this moment. Harry reached into the first bag, pulling out several packs of butter beer.

“We’re gonna have fun tonight, friend!” Exclaimed Seamus, gesturing for Harry to continue. In the second bag was a bottle of fire whiskey and another pack of butterbeer.

“You know what guys? I needed this.” Confessed Harry, shaking his head with a smile. “How in the hell did you manage to get all of this?”

“Seamus. That’s how,” answered Neville with a grin.

“Eh, don’t give me all the credit. I couldn’t have gotten it smuggled in here without my boy Dean.” He patted him on the shoulder. 

“Well, lets get to it now, shall we?” Ron reached forward, retrieving a butter beer and popping the cap off on the edge of the table. He handed it to Hermione, who slipped it slowly, before grabbing another for himself.

“You guys enjoy starting slow. I’m heading straight for the firewhiskey. Who’s with me?” Seamus reached for the bottle, popping the lid and taking a swing straight. He shook his head dramatically, exclaiming, “Woo! Burns but burns so smoothly.” The crew chuckled at Seamus, who raised the bottle as an offering.

“I’ll take some,” piped up Neville, who reached across the table to take a shot.

“Damn, Neville, never thought I’d see the day,” commented Dean, who popped open his own butterbeer. Harry grabbed one, too, and Ron raised his bottle.

“A toast to Harry,” he proposed, “For kicking arse, no matter what.” Harry grinned, trying to be present in this wonderful moment. He was surrounded by loyal friends, and before him was a table full of alcohol. If he was going to bury his pain, this was one hell of a way to do it.

&&&

A few hours later found Hermione snuggled up against Ron, laughing hysterically at some ridiculous joke he’d been on about. Dean and Seamus were playing drunk wizard’s chess (similar to sober wizard’s chess, but much more difficult when the pieces begin to sway). Neville and Harry were conversing about what in the bloody hell they were going to do once Voldemort was defeated.

“We’ll win, I just know it,” claimed Neville. “And when we do, I want to study herbology. I can make something of myself, ya’know?”

Harry sniffed, taking a swig. “That sounds great, Neville. You really should follow through with that.”

“What about you, Harry? What do you want to do when this is all over?”

Harry froze as the face he’d done so well of forgetting flashed through his mind. He took another drink, swallowing the memory. “I’m not sure, yet. We’ve got time though, hm?”

Before Neville could answer, Seamus was hooting his victory over Dean. “Checkmate, bitches!”

Dean shrugged, and the two ended their game to join the group. “I’ve got another game we can play,” Dean offered, and all eyes were upon him.

“It’s a muggle game. We’ll need some playing cards.” He transfigured a copy of the Daily Prophet lying near the fireplace.  
“Now, it’s not too complicated. We place the cards face down. Each card requires you to complete a different task...”

Only Hermione was familiar with the game and its instructions, but had never played herself. In any case, it was one heck of a drinking game. In just another hour, they had gone from sipping butter beer to chasing firewhiskey. Harry was absolutely beside himself, unable to sit up straight properly and giggling while leaning sideways onto Seamus. His actions were hardly judged, as Dean and Seamus were too busy cackling at Neville, whose words were too slurred to understand. Hermione had somehow fallen asleep on Ron’s shoulder and was snoring lightly. Ron wasn’t much better, pronouncing legibly but speaking 100 miles a minute about quidditch. Here, at midnight, maybe one am, Harry had found some sort of peace. He wasn’t fixed, no, but he was temporarily bandaged. And everything was hilarious. And he had his friends. And, well, blissfully... he passed out.

&&&

Time appeared to be frozen once more. They were surrounded by Voldemort’s right hand men, wands aimed and ready to kill. Lucius Malfoy was before them, statuesque in his violence. Harry knew this scene much too well, all of its intricacies woven repeatedly into his brain. This time, however, something was missing. At first, he couldn’t put his finger on it. He was used to watching his friends die before him, the dream ending in blood almost infinitely. But in recent weeks, the body of the dream had changed somewhat. Harry appeared to be waiting for someone; his gut knew to expect them. But who? Had he forgotten completely?

And that was when he laid eyes on the most angelic creature stepping from the shadows, a slim young man with pale blonde hair and eyes that were like the silver of a double edged sword. He gasped, a flood of memories sweeping Harry from his oblivion. This was who he’d been anticipating all along; this was who was going to save him.

“Harry,” he began, stepping forward as he had in previous visions. “There’s something you should know.”

He came even closer, intertwining his fingers with both sets of Harry’s. His breath was cool and sweet and caused Harry to swoon in his presence. “I’ve been wanting to tell you,” he confessed, leaning toward Harry’s face.

He wanted to ask what this beautiful person could possibly want to confide in him, but his breath was caught in his throat. That’s when Draco Malfoy pressed his lips tenderly to Harry Potter’s, conveying the message clearly without speaking even one word. They separated, and Draco gave him a shy smile.

“Harry,” he finished his earlier thought, “I’m in love with you.”

Harry’s stomach lurched, a thousand butterflies all battling to escape. Heaven was upon them, and all pain was forgotten here. His memory lapsed so much that he couldn’t recall quite where they were or why they were there, even though everything remained at a standstill. He wanted to respond, to confess his feelings to the angel before him. He opened his mouth to speak, but was abruptly cut off by a deep voice that had been previously immobile.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the traitor.” Lucius Malfoy was the only being that had miraculously become unfrozen and was slowly making his way toward the couple.

Harry clung to Draco protectively, as if by holding him he could save him. Draco kept one arm draped around Harry’s waist, and the other held his wand, aimed and ready.

“I’m going kill you, Draco,” promised Mr. Malfoy, a satisfactory glint in his eye. Harry felt sick to his stomach at the sadistic twist to the father-son relationship before him. He continued: “and not for this abomination that is occurring before my eyes.” He gestured toward Potter, who still gripped Draco possessively.

“Love the Chosen One if you please, but the Dark Lord will still reign. And you will suffer for your betrayal.” His eyes were wild, ravenous, as if he’d been waiting an eternity for this moment.

“Father, kill me if you wish. But I won’t let you hurt him.” Draco brought his arm to the front of Harry, placing his hand upon his abdomen as if to keep him back.

“You could have had it all, Draco. The Malfoy riches. The Dark Lord’s power. It was all waiting to be handed to you. And yet, you throw it all away for the trash that you so willingly protect.”

Draco’s expression was narrowed, but he didn’t say a word.

“You don’t have to worry. I won’t touch your precious Harry Potter. I will be leaving that to our Lord. It’s you that I have a vendetta for.”

Draco’s expression softened. “Father, please, don’t do this.”

Lucius scoffed. “Please. You are no son of mine.” His brow furrowed, and within a fraction of a second his wand had lifted even higher.

Time seemed to freeze secondarily for Harry. Draco’s brow was creased with worry; a mixture of fear and pain stained his expression. Lucius Malfoy’s mouth was open, screaming the words that would befall his son mortally. His eyes were black; there was no love or remorse. Only darkness.

Harry took a breath, and it was the only sound he could hear other than his heart thudding wildly in his chest. He pushed forward suddenly, realizing the curse that was upon them and lunging toward a nonexistent reprieve. Harry, quick as he was... was too late.

“Avada kedavra!” Were the words spat from his mouth; from father to son, beginning to end. 

For Harry, the spell almost hovered mid air before crashing into its victim, begging him to fix what had become. All too soon, it found its target, colliding full force into the boy standing innocently next to Harry. The boy Harry loved, but hadn’t told.

Draco fell lifeless before him, crashing to the floor as the curse radiated through his chest. And, just like that, the deed had been done. Harry collapsed atop of him; shock turning to sobs as Draco’s motionless face rested beneath him.

Time remained still, his friends motionless as Harry grieved over the body that was much too pale, even for Draco. Harry pressed his fingers to the boy’s head, rubbing his thumbs across thin cheeks in an attempt to wake him.

“Draco,” he cried, “Why couldn’t I save you? I never would’ve left you alone.” He slapped both palms to his cheeks, but the boy didn’t stir. He truly was... gone.

Something inside of Harry cracked. Regret panged him. He could’ve prepared for this, planned for it. He could’ve stopped Lucius Malfoy. He could’ve... he could’ve... but he hadn’t. And Draco lay dead before him. And there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Through tears, he looked up. Lucius was gone, and so were the others. He was alone, draped over Draco’s body. Everything was silent. Everything except...

Harry awoke to the sound of his own hyperventilating. Eyelids sprung open, sweat dripped from his brow. He sat up immediately, trying to gather his surroundings. Why in the hell was he on the couch in the common room? Where was everyone? And where was...Draco?

Remembrance hit Harry like a train. The world was still spinning slightly, alcohol holding its charm. All that remained of the fire was a few smoldering embers. Harry checked the clock; he must’ve been out for around an hour, maybe. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his sleeve, perspiration coating his shirt. In all of the cloudiness and confusion, a sudden, singular thought seemed to awaken Harry into clarity: Draco. Images of his nightmare played on the forefront of his mind: Lucius, cold and murderous; Draco, lifeless. And all because Harry hadn’t been able to save him.

A deep pit formed in his stomach as he realized the mistake he had made. Even in his dream, Lucius hadn’t killed Draco because of Harry. He’d killed him for his disloyalty. He wasn’t protecting Draco by keeping apart from him; he was leaving him alone and unprotected. His heart hurt in the absence of the blonde, but it ached even more at the lifeless image in his head. Harry didn’t just want Draco; he needed him. And it looked like merely surviving in the gray existence that had been the past 24 hours wasn’t going to be enough anymore. Harry had been quick to do what he thought was the right thing, and now he had to fix what he’d hoped wasn’t far too broken. He had to find him, immediately.

Maybe it was his Gryffindor rashness that fueled his next move; maybe it was the alcohol giving him an extra boost of confidence and poor judgment. Or maybe it was purely love that led him to run into the dormitory for the Marauder’s Map.

The others all seemed to be in a drunken slumber. Ron snored obnoxiously from the bed next to Harry’s. Seamus was muttering to himself in his sleep, something about his mother and an apple pie. Harry snuck past them all and retrieved the map from his trunk, casting a quick Lumos to detect the one he needed. He expected the name to appear motionless, somewhere near the dungeons where he was sure the Slytherins slept. But it wasn’t there. It wasn’t there at all.

&&&

“Okay, okay. So 2 out of 3 then?” Draco laughed, having just been defeated by Blaise and Pansy at a game similar to muggle rock, paper, scissors.

“Nope. You played, you lost, you get snacks.” Blaise flashed that wide grin again, ushering Draco out of the common room.

“Alright, fine. You’re both lucky that I happen to be famished myself.” Draco turned to leave.

“Don’t get caught by Filch, Darling,” Pansy warned, taking a seat back onto the couch. “And do bring back something sweet?”

All three had the munchies, for sure, and if Draco had been sober at that hour he probably would’ve convinced them to go to sleep. Alas, he wasn’t, and instead he was exiting the common room with the intent of sneaking across the castle to the kitchens. The house elves were notorious for slipping the students midnight snacks, and Draco fully intended on using that privilege.

He began the trek steadily, watching his feet consciously to keep balance. It turned out he was more intoxicated than he originally thought, and this most certainly was not a smart idea. Especially not with Filch and Mrs. Norris on the loose. 

He hugged the wall, keeping a close eye for any movement and wand drawn for a quick disillusionment spell if needed. The dungeons were dark, especially at this hour, but he didn’t risk casting a lumos. Instead, he moved cautiously, and before too long he had escalated to the castle at ground level. Upon leaving the dungeons, he peered out into the open corridor and looked both ways before deciding the coast was clear. It was still dark, but several dimly lit candles along the wall helped Draco’s vision adjust accordingly. He ascended the hallway, stepping quickly so as not to be seen but keeping his footing in check. There were several alcoves along this section of the castle, which he kept nearby in case of Filch.

As he rounded the corner of the corridor to turn left, he hurriedly stashed himself into one. Although it appeared that nobody was ahead, he could’ve sworn he heard foot steps. Cautiously, he waited. He’d come this far; a few extra seconds wouldn’t hurt if it kept him from detention.

&&&

The name Draco Malfoy appeared to be on the move in one of the main corridors of the castle. Harry blinked; what in the hell was he doing there at this hour? Then again, the map didn’t lie.

Hastily, Harry muttered “Mischief managed” and folded it into his pocket. Without further ado, he climbed through the portrait hole. It would’ve been wise to grab the invisibility cloak, but Harry was beyond thought in his inebriation. All he could see in his mind’s eye was Draco.

&&&

Draco had positioned himself against the indented wall of the alcove in such a way that if he leaned outward he could see the open hallway before him. Placing his fingers against the cool stone, he exposed his head slightly to view the area. There was no sign of Filch or his bloody cat, so he tip toed into the openness and made his way forward. The kitchens were a straight shot from here, and luckily there were plenty of empty classrooms and dead end hallways coming up on either side to take shelter in. He continued straight, confident that he was going to make it unscathed. Erring toward the right side of the corridor, he approached the first of these openings when his feet came to a dead stop. Foot steps.

This time, he knew for a fact that he had heard them. He may have been more than tipsy, but his senses were keen and alert as always. He drew his wand, ready to disillusion himself when he felt a tug on the back of his shirt collar. The being pulled him posteriorly, and Draco made more than a ruckus trying to break free. It wasn’t until they were fully concealed, sheltered by the shadows of the added hallway, that his captor let go. Draco turned, ready to hex whoever the hell had just grabbed him when he noticed the most beautiful emerald eyes.

&&&

Harry wasn’t the best at remaining silent in his current state. In fact, he wasn’t fully aware of the clip-clop effect his sneakers had on the floor beneath him, obvious to any bystander. Luckily, Filch appeared to be somewhere on the third floor, out of hearing range for the moment. According to the map, Draco would be navigating one of the main corridors ahead of him soon. Harry slipped into an abandoned hallway nearby and waited.

He didn’t mean to scare the boy, but with all judgment gone Harry figured the best way to get his attention was to get him alone quickly. When he appeared in the hallway, open and exposed, Harry could tell he suspected someone nearby. Before Draco could settle the score, Harry grasped him by the shirt and tugged him into the hallway. He hadn’t looked too closely for any of the heads of houses, and he didn’t want to risk either of them being seen. Especially without the (damnit he bloody forgot) invisibility cloak.

Draco looked as if he’d seen a ghost, pale and frightened at the sudden contact. He breathed heavily as he adjusted to the situation and realized who had brought him there. “Harry,” he stated softly, an acknowledgement more than a question.

“Draco,” he replied, keeping a safe distance. As much as he wanted to hold him, to wrap his arms around that slim waist and profusely apologize for the past 24 hours, he didn’t. Harry knew he’d fucked up, and he wasn’t sure exactly how Draco had handled it. Maybe the hexes weren’t off of the table after all.

Draco had a dreamy look about him, as if he’d already passed out in a drunken stupor and was re-living a happier memory. He shook his head, reality setting in as he absorbed his surroundings and holy fuck it was 2 or 3 am and he was in an empty hallway with Harry Fucking Potter.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Questioned Draco, upset that they had somehow coincidentally snuck out simultaneously and not with each other.

Harry smirked. “Well, it seems I have run into Filch after all.”

Draco grinned, definitely able to take the sarcasm he was so used to dishing. Harry smiled as well, looking to his feet to conceal the blush that had found his cheeks. He scratched the back of his own head, a nervous habit that hed picked up somewhere down the line.

When he raised his gaze, Draco was peering at him silently. His eyes were stone gray, unwavering as they held his own.

“I was trying to find you,” admitted Harry, unable to hold back under the soft scrutiny of silver irises.

“You were?” The response was barely above a whisper. Draco looked back and forth, at Harry and then the ground, and then at his own hands, trying to piece together the present moment. A part of him wanted to cry, relieved that Harry had not forgotten his existence completely. The other aspect was wrenching, pulling at him from all angles, causing him to turn his body abruptly. His back was to Harry now, and he spent the next few moments choking back tears that had somehow surfaced above the perfectly crafted Malfoy facade. The truth was, he was afraid. He feared that Harry was here to reward him with more disappointment, that the face he wanted to desperately make his own was going to walk away again.

“Why?” He managed, unable to pivot back to Harry.

Harry sighed internally. He had obviously hurt Draco more than he’d ever intended to. In doing the “right thing,” he’d completely barred any trust between the two of them. He had to make this right. Even if he still lacked the ability to completely think straight.

“Because I realized something, Draco. I- I got a bit inebriated... I’m still a bit inebriated, actually. But the point is, I’ve been thinking about everything in this whole forsaken world trying to distract myself from you. I thought that if I could forget about you, I could protect you. From your father. From Voldemort. But I was wrong. The truth is, Draco, I can’t shake the feeling that without you I’m missing a piece of myself. It’s as if we’re meant to be together. I’ve never believed in anything like this, but now I’m convinced. Draco, I... I need you. Please. Forgive me.”

Tears were flowing freely now. In Harry’s presence, there was no Malfoy, no perfect mask. All that remained was Draco, slightly broken but pure. He turned to face his match, cautiously lifting his eyes from the ground to meet green.

“Honestly, Potter, you thought you could stay away from me for more than a day?”  
Draco playfully simpered, tears interrupting any haughtiness in his voice.

Harry stepped forward, gaining confidence with Draco’s response. “You missed me,” was his reply. It was a statement, not a question, and Draco nodded: “More than you know.”

“Oh, God, Draco,” Harry braved the space between them and wrapped his arms around the edgy physique that was Draco Malfoy. Draco didnt move and allowed himself to succumb to the bliss enveloping every part of him. He melted in Harry’s arms, quite literally, and found himself stumbling into the boy as he awkwardly lost balance.

Bracing Draco with a hand around each arm, Harry stabilized him with a smile. “You’d think you were drunk, too, you know.”

Draco laughed. “Oh, just wait until I tell you that story.”

&&&

“He’s been a while, don’t you think?” Pansy questioned worriedly to an apathetic Blaise.

“Maybe he got caught, Pans. He was pretty far gone when he left, you know.”

“Don’t say that, Blaise. I can’t have him in detention for who knows how many months! He has... things to do.”

“What, like sleeping with you?” Blaise scoffed, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of the girl.

“None of yours!” She snapped, and took toward the exit. “I’m going to check on him.”

“Maybe you can sleep with him while you’re both serving detention, then,” Blaise called after her. “I’m going to bed.”

And she left, stamping vigorously toward the kitchens.

&&&

“So you told them you wanted to marry me?” Harry was buckling from laughter, clutching his sides as Draco regarded the events of tonight.

“Yeah, it just sort of... slipped out. And the recovery was even worse. I said ‘no! I meant I wanted to fuck him!’”

Harry swore he was going to cry. He wasn’t sure the last time he’d enjoyed himself quite this much. There they were, standing in a vacant hallway at some god forsaken hour, making up.

“Awh, come on, Draco.” Harry straightened up, wearing a humorous but smug expression. “Are you saying you wouldn’t marry me if given the chance?”

Draco returned a smile, cheeks turning a bright pink. “Harry Potter, Are you saying you’d propose to me if given the chance?”

Realizing the seriousness of that thought, Harry stepped forward so that their faces were merely inches apart. The air seemed to thicken around them as both began to understand the unspoken significance of what had been said. The idea that their relationship could prosper amongst all of the hardship ahead was a dream that seemed unattainable on paper. It was silly, the two of them falling for each other in this way, when so much darkness threatened to consume the wizarding world.

Harry inhaled a sharp breath, preparing himself. “Draco, I know that I made one of the biggest mistakes in my life by trying to let this go. If you can give me a chance, I promise... I’ll die before I leave.”

Draco raised both hands, placing them symmetrically on either side of Harry’s temporal bones. He stared deeply into infinite pools of green, the silence speaking each word for him. He peered down at Harry’s lips, pausing briefly before closing the space between them.

&&&

Pansy steadily followed in Draco’s foot steps toward the castle kitchens. She trekked the halls, keeping an eye out for any authority figure she might have to duck from. It was silent at this hour, eerie in the absence of other students. She wasn’t used to sneaking around alone like this, and she hoped that she’d run into Draco soon. She rounded the corner of another corridor when the silence was interrupted by the small but abrupt noise of laughter. It was barely audible, but she was sure in her determination that it’d been real.

Cautiously, she followed the right hand side of the passage in the direction it came from. Luckily, whatever she’d heard hadn’t sounded like punishment. Pansy continued in this fashion until she froze suddenly, straining her ears as the sound repeated itself. It was very close now, and she placed her back against the wall for fear of being seen. Looking ahead, Pansy deduced that whoever was out and about was in the corridor extending to the right. She inched forward, sliding with her back propped against the wall.

Approaching the edge of the open corridor, she paused and craned her neck sideways to view the source of such laughter. She did her absolute best to remain unseen and successfully noticed Draco’s back facing her. Sighing with relief, she was just about to reveal herself and ask him what in the hell was taking so long when she noticed a pair of hands grasping each side of his waist. A gasp let loose from her throat, and immediately jealousy bubbled from within. Draco had left her company purposely to meet up with another girl? Jealousy quickly turned to rage as she studied the figures before her. Who was this mystery bitch?

Pansy’s stomach dropped to her knees when she recognized the sounds of kissing. Even though they weren’t officially courting, Pansy had always had somewhat of a claim on Draco. She knew that one day they would end up together, and she would be the Malfoy heiress and receive her happy ending. She’d predicted it so, after all. Which is why she was utterly devastated that Draco was in an abandoned corridor with some other woman. Swallowing emotion, she scrutinized the scene before her in an attempt to reveal the identity of his mistress. The hands had begun to travel downward, gripping Draco’s rear possessively. Pansy immediately turned a bright scarlet, knowing she was interrupting something intimate but allowing her curiosity to rule.

“Mmm.” A grunt escaped Draco’s supposed whore, and it took everything from Pansy to stay hidden. She had a raspy, deep voice that she couldn’t place to any girl she knew. Her thoughts were whirling, flashing faces of everyone she knew when Draco took a turn to speak: “Harry.”

Pansy audibly gasped, gaping at what she had just heard. Her heart was racing, adrenaline pumping violently as she processed what was occurring before her.

Those hands, now that she looked more closely, appeared to be much more masculine than she’d initially presumed. That voice, that grunt, was much too deep. And that name... could it be? Could it fucking be?

The two separated momentarily, and Pansy strained to see the figure superimposed by Draco. He tilted his head, moving to rest his face against a shoulder that was much taller than expected. That’s when Pansy caught the biggest glimpse of the person Draco had spent the last few minutes snogging. He had the most unruly black hair, round glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose, a small smile formed upon his lips. Mouth agape, Pansy was almost unable to believe the sight before her.

Draco was...gay? Gay with Harry Bloody Potter? Shock was evident, and she attempted shrewdly to wrap her head around what she had seen. As gears began to turn and pieces found their match, a rage unlike any she’d felt before began to envelope. Her world was red, bloody with ire. Draco Malfoy had completely and utterly played her. The Dark Lord hardly asked his Death Eaters to snog the enemy, and Pansy knew she’d been deceived. Her hands were balled into fists, shaking profusely as a piece of her heart began to break.

No one dared play Pansy Parkinson. Draco Malfoy would pay, yes, and he would feel her wrath. She could tell the press;the rumors alone would ruin him. No, she thought, that would be too easy. She had much bigger plans brewing, and the corner of her mouth twisted upward at the thought of revenge.

The most sickening part of it all was how impeccably happy they looked together; Draco nestled in the curve of Harry’s shoulder, and Harry’s arms wrapped around him protectively. She envied them, but she hated them more. And, she decided, she’d seen everything she needed to. With a look that could almost cast a wandless killing curse, Pansy stalked back to the Slytherin common room. Something in her would never quite be the same, and she reveled in this, allowing the anger to consume her beyond repair. Pansy Parkinson had, in fact, cracked.

&&&

“I was sent on a mission to get snacks, you know,” Draco confessed, planting a kiss to the side of Harry’s neck. He ascended slowly, placing tender pecks along the length of his skin until he reached his ear lobe. Here, he paused, biting softly before sensing the shudder that ran down Harry’s spine. Harry reciprocated by running a hand smoothly down the front of his abdomen, grazing over his belt and lingering just a tad bit lower. His fingertips brushed against the fabric of Draco’s pants, loosely tracing the shape of his penis. He raised his head in response, groaning at the sensation of Harry’s touch. Draco’s cock began to stiffen, and Harry simpered seductively.

“We should probably go get those snacks then,” he suggested slyly. Draco snickered, muttering about what a tease his boyfriend was before stepping back slightly. Harry froze immediately at the sound of the word.

“So, does that mean... that we’re, um... together?”

Draco scoffed. “Unless you plan on leaving me again, I would think so.” His words were coated with sarcasm, but his eyes were playful.

“Besides,” he continued, “Malfoy’s don’t shag without commitment. It’s improper, you know.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You are about the farthest thing from a Malfoy at this point, Draco.” He stopped, the edge of his lips turning upward coyly. “But I won’t argue Malfoy principles if it means I get to call you mine.”

Draco grinned, then leaned forward for one last kiss. “Come on,” He said, taking Harry’s hand. “We’ve got a kitchen run to make.”

&&&

They arrived unseen through one of the back entrances to the kitchens, passing on the way what Draco swore had to be the Hufflepuff common room.

“You know they stay by the kitchens,” Draco informed Harry, “and supposedly they don’t have a password. How in the bloody hell do they keep people out?”

“Do you plan on walking into the Hufflepuff common room?” Harry eyed him jokingly.

“Of course not. I’m really not in the mood for hugs, friendship, or dance parties.”

“Exactly.” Harry mused, proving his point efficiently.

As their presence became known, several House Elves approached the couple willingly.

“Mr. Potter!” A small, gangly elf with big eyes and perky ears stepped forward.

“Popular, aren’t we?” Whispered Draco as they became surrounded by a group of them.

“Hello, Dobby!” Harry greeted the elf, reaching forward to shake his hand. Draco marveled at the way he treated the elf, like a friend, instead of the way his own upbringing had trained him to. As the name and somewhat familiarity of the elf before them sunk in, Draco started.

“Dobby!?” He exclaimed, excited. “Do you remember me?”

“Of course, Mr. Malfoy,” Dobby bowed respectfully. “Dobby wasn’t sure if Mr. Malfoy remembered him!”

“How could I forget?” Draco was wild, exuberant. “You practically raised me, in spite of my parents.” He knelt down on one knee, bringing himself to eye level.  
“My father was terrible to you. I no longer associate with him. I’m so sorry, Dobby.”

His ears flattened, eyes glassy and widening almost impossibly. In the next moment, he was sobbing. Stunned, Draco made a face but Harry was already patting him on the shoulder. He wore an expression that read “don’t worry, that’s normal,” and Draco turned back to the elf.

“What is it, Dobby?” 

“Oh, Mr. Malfoy, you are so kind! You are nothing like the Master Malfoy that bore you. Thank you for remembering Dobby, even after he has been set free.”

He beamed at Harry, then Draco. “Are Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy friends now?”

“Yes,” responded Harry, and it was his turn to beam at his now-boyfriend. He gave Draco’s hand a squeeze.

“We’re more than friends, actually,” Harry continued. Draco’s face went pale, and Dobby looked confused. And then, a light seemed to turn on in Dobby’s eyes as understanding became.

“Well, if Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy are happy together as one, then the house elves are even happier!” Dobby clapped his hands together and released a squeal. The other house elves joined in, nodding and exclaiming their joy for the couple. Draco gave a harry a frightened look, but Harry nodded and leaned in to whisper.

“It’s ok, Draco. The house elves are loyal to Dumbledore. They won’t betray us.” He turned to face the elves.

“Thank you, so much. We aren’t really ready to announce this yet, so would you all mind keeping this detail in secret?”

There was a series of silent nods across the room. “Of course Mr. Potter!” Chimed Dobby, “Your secret is ours to keep!” Harry nodded thankfully.

“Oh, and where are our manners!?” Dobby continued gleefully. “What has brought Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy to the kitchens at this hour?”

&&&

They exited, bellies stuffed beyond their belts. Harry was licking his fingers, removing any evidence from the treacle tart he’d just indulged upon. Draco gave him a disgusted look but lapped up the remains off his own fingers when he thought Harry wasn’t paying attention. Needless to say, Potter caught him immediately and laughed, shaking his head. That was when a sudden thought occurred to him.

Turning abruptly, he stepped in front of Malfoy and pinned him to the wall nearest them. Luckily, they were hidden by a large stone pillar some steps away, and Harry grinned at him slyly. “Tell me, Draco, is it that Malfoy’s truly do have better manners than the rest of us?” Harry questioned provocatively.  
“Or is it that you’d rather have me,” he paused, intertwining his right fingers through Draco’s and bringing their hands to face level. He than began to unlace them, and Draco caught his breath at the sudden closeness. Harry took hold of his index finger, keeping it extended while the others curled inward like a fist. He proceeded to lift it towards his lips, wrapping his mouth around the tip and sliding his tongue downward toward his knuckle. His eyes were closed, and when he opened them he noticed that Draco’s pupils were quite dilated in a mixture of pleasure and surprise. He smiled, finishing his statement temptingly: “...do it for you?”

Draco started, unaware that a simple gesture could turn him on so much. He felt his prick start to swell, wishing subconsciously that Harry’s mouth was wrapped around something much lower. Harry pressed his body against him, able to feel Draco’s stiffening cock through the colliding fabric of pants. Harry planted kisses tenderly along the length of Draco’s finger, then moved to his posterior hand before traveling proximally up the boy’s right arm. Draco’s breath was heavy as Harry worked his way upward, kissing and softly biting different areas of the arm. When he reached his shoulder, Draco brought his left hand to meet Harry’s cheek, coaxing their lips to touch. Harry obeyed willingly, and then Draco’s tongue was sliding across his own. God, he was so good at that, and as the snogging continued Harry felt his own cock lengthening.  
“Nrgh,” was the sound that escaped his throat, and it took every bit of self control not to shag the lanky boy right there on the spot. They were both very new at this, hormones raging and peaking and swooning at the sexual contact. Malfoy started to slip his hands beneath Potter’s shirt but retracted them soon after. Separating, he planted his lips to Harry’s once more before stating, “I hate the way you do this to me.”  
A glint in his eye, Potter smiled. “I definitely don’t hate it. Not even a little bit.”

“Come on, Harry,” Malfoy smiled and stepped forward, extending his arm toward Harry. “We are way too drunk for this right now.”

Hand in hand, they headed to their respected common rooms, but not before a few last gropes and pecks had been exchanged.

“This weekend’s a Hogsmeade one,” Draco informed him before turning toward the dungeons, “care to skip it with me?” 

Harry grinned mischievously. “What do you have in mind we do instead?”

“Ive got a few ideas brewing,” he winked, and Harry felt his stomach lurch. Wrapping his arms around Draco’s neck, he leaned in and whispered furtively: “Meet me by the grand staircase at 10.”

With an accepting nod, Draco brushed their lips briefly before turning and walking toward the dungeons. Harry stood for a moment, giddy, before returning to Gryffindor tower.

&&&

Draco entered the Slytherin common room only to find that he was alone; Pansy and Blaise must’ve passed out prior to his return. Shrugging, he traipsed to the dormitory. Sleep was beginning to wear on him, and he was ready for some shut eye. Especially with tomorrow’s possibilities, Draco wanted to be well rested. After changing into silk pajamas, he confiscated the snacks he’d brought to a spot well hidden beneath his four poster. He then climbed in, sliding between the sheets when he happened to notice his right arm. It seemed that the house elves weren’t the only ones providing souvenirs that night, as Draco had returned with several purple bruises dotted along the pale surface of his forearm. “Damnit, Harry,” Draco thought, but the mere sight of the hickeys was enough to make his cock twitch. Sighing to himself, he smiled, promising revenge on the Chosen One at the next best opportunity. Draco’s father had taught him that revenge is sweet at a very young age, and he stifled a laugh at this memory. If only Lucius had known just how sweet this revenge would be.


	12. First Dates, I love you’s, & Hot, Steamy Showers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning- this chapter contains mentions of abuse.

Harry awoke the next morning bright and early, unable to contain his excitement for the day ahead. The only downside was the pounding headache that was present in each parietal lobe, clearly the remnants of firewhiskey and butterbeer. Harry pressed through the pain, dressing and sneaking past the rest of the gang. They all seemed to be snoring or otherwise immobile, still mildly comatose from the night before. Harry made his way to breakfast, greeted only by Hermione at the Gryffindor table.

“How are you feeling?” She asked genuinely.

“Not too bad,” he responded, eyes grazing the Slytherin table to find that the blonde was absent thus far. “And you?”

“I’ve been better,” she admitted, smiling wryly. “I’m not used to staying up with you guys, but I must say I did have a good time.”

“Me, too, ‘Mione. It meant so much to me, what you all did last night. I guess what I’m trying to say is, thank you.” He took a bite of his short stack after drowning it in maple syrup.

“It was Ron’s idea. But I pitched in, so, you’re welcome.” Her mouth turned up at the edges, a warm expression alive in her hazel brown eyes. “Harry,” she continued, taking him by surprise. “You seem to be feeling better than yesterday. I’m glad.”

Harry took a sip of his juice. Damn, Hermione was observant. He nodded. “I am.”

For a while, she didn’t say anything, but gazed at him knowingly. She appeared to be contemplating something, and Harry’s heartbeat quickened at the prospect of her somehow aware of his secret. After a few seconds, however, her gaze shifted back to her breakfast. “Where do you want to go first today?”

When Harry gave her a puzzled face, she continued. “It’s a Hogsmeade weekend; aren’t you going with Ron and me?”

“Oh yeah,” he picked at his eggs, avoiding her stare. “About that.” After a moment of silence, he lifted his eyes to see hers peering at him skeptically.  
“I’m, uh, not going to be able to make it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but there was an underlying air of playfulness beneath the gesture. She inhaled, folding her hands upon her lap in preparation for what she was about to confess.

“Harry, I know about you and Malfoy.”

Harry’s eggs fell from his open mouth, slapping against the plate with a thud that interrupted the utter silence. He didn’t move, complete shock overcoming his senses. After what felt like an eternity, Hermione spoke:

“It’s ok, Harry. I’ve known for a while. Nobody told me; I just sort of figured it out. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Harry slowly nodded, unable to speak.

“If you want my opinion, I’ll have you know that I think it’s risky. I know that Malfoy is a different person now; anyone with a brain can see that. And if you’re happy, I’m happy. It’s been nice seeing you smile, and I hope you two have worked through whatever occurred between you the past couple of days. Just, be careful, Harry.” A look of concern crossed her face. “I fear that if Voldemort, or any of his followers for that matter, get ahold of this information... it could end badly for both of you.”

Harry gulped, trying to process everything. “I know. I know it’s risky. I tried to break things off for that reason. But, Hermione, I just can’t stay away from him.”

Hermione smiled softly. “I know. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” She reached across the table and took Harry’s hands. “You have my support.”

Harry returned her smile, giving both hands a squeeze. “Thank you, Hermione. It means a lot.”

She released his hands, straightening up in her seat. “I won’t tell Ronald, but you know that when you do decide to let him in on this, it’s not going to be pretty.” Harry sighed. He hadn’t given the situation much thought, but he knew that his best friend was correct in her prediction. Ron was his best mate; a damn good friend at that. But when it came to matters of Malfoy (“that bloody Farrett,” according to Ron), he tended to be close minded.

“I guess we’ll cross that bridge once we get there,” Harry stated, picking up his eggs once more.

“I’ll just have to knock some sense into him then.” Hermione winked and returned to her own breakfast. Harry could feel himself physically relax at Hermione’s acceptance. He hadn’t realized how much it was bothering him to not have her know, and her blessing was everything.

A few minutes later, Harry was finishing up His meal when the door to the Great Hall opened to reveal the rest of the Gryffindor clan. As a group, they appeared exhausted, sickly, and, well, hungover. Ron took a seat next to Hermione and the others filed in behind him.

“Sorry we left you on the couch, mate,” was his tired greeting. “We tried to wake you, I swear. But you were not having it.”

“I was going to mark your face, but Ron told me not to. Said you’d been through enough already,” Seamus piped in with a snicker.

“Well, thanks for that, Ron,” Harry added, and Ron lifted his orange juice as if to say “no problem.” At that moment, the doors opened once more to reveal just who Harry had been anticipating all along.

Draco Malfoy appeared surprisingly well rested and chipper. There was a pep in each step to the Slytherin table, and Harry wondered how in the hell he could make a hangover look so good. His eyes flashed up to meet the Gryffindor’s, and he gave a charming smile before taking his seat. God, how that smile could melt him to the core. Harry’s stomach fluttered, amazed at the fact that someone so perfect could possibly be called his own.

&&&

Harry was able to convince Ron that his hangover was kicking his arse enough to keep him from Hogsmeade. After his friends departed, Harry headed for the grand staircase. The halls were mostly empty; with the exception of the younger students, most of the school participated in Hogsmeade trips. There, perched against the side of the stairs with a half eaten apple in hand, was Draco Malfoy. At the sight of his boyfriend, he lit up and extended his other hand forward. The area appeared to be vacant, and Harry placed his left hand into Draco’s. Immediately, he was pulled into an embrace.

“Ive missed you,” whispered Draco, and Harry felt a warm sensation trickle from his head to his toes. He smiled stupidly, aware of the pricking sensation Draco had instilled all over his body with the slightest touch.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Draco took one last bite of his apple before discarding it and reached into the pocket of his jumper. He pulled out a small flask that contained a bright liquid the color of amethyst. “I figured you might need this after last night.”

Harry retrieved the container, shaking it slightly. “What is it?”

“It’s my specialty.” Draco grinned impishly. “It’ll cure your hangover, if you have one.”

Harry’s eyebrows perked up in interest. “Where did you get this?”

“I made it. Should’ve paid closer attention in potions, Potter.”

“Snape never taught us how to cure a hangover, Draco.” He retorted doubtfully.

“No, but he did teach us the properties of worm root and all of the other ingredients I put in this gem.” He winked wickedly, and Harry took a swig. Immediately, he spurted the liquid, spitting it toward the floor in both shock and distaste.

“This tastes like complete shite!” Harry wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

“Well, what’d you expect it to taste like? Everything has to balance in magic. Cure your hangover? Get ready to swallow shite.” Harry tilted his head expectantly before taking another shot.

“It burns.” He commented, but was able to keep it down. Soon after, a cool sensation began to flood through his veins, traveling upward toward his vena cava. It pumped slowly, reaching the edges of every cell that fueled his body. He noticed it creep along his carotids next and inch across his scalp, curing his headache instantly. Whatever Draco had concocted, it worked.

Harry shook his head and blinked a few times before handing the bottle back to him. “Wow. I feel much better now, thanks.”

Draco confiscated the flask and looked up to meet Harry. “So, are you ready for our date?”

A feeling of exuberance invaded Harry. Had he actually planned an official date for the two of them? The entire situation seemed unreal.

“Yes, of course. What are we doing?”  
With a grin, Draco began to walk past him toward the direction of the castle entrance. Harry’s curiosity was ebbing, and as Draco approached the exit, it donned on him that he should follow.

“Draco! Wait up!” He called, but the blonde was already exiting the large wooden doors that lead to the castle grounds. He had to jog to catch up and found himself almost panting by the time Draco had stopped. They were at the edge of the grounds, around the backside of the castle. Draco stood wordlessly, facing the vast openness of Scotland that surrounded them. Exasperated, Harry placed a hand on his shoulder and matched his gaze to the group of mountains ahead of them. It truly was serene, peaks of snow dotting a cloudless blue sky among valleys of green below. He found himself better able to appreciate the landscape with Draco next to him. Each color popped with a vibrance he had never noticed; the songs of nearby birds were tunes that spoke to him personally. The sunlight was brighter than it’d ever been before as it reflected from Draco’s platinum hair. He turned to face Harry, that infamous smile playing on his lips.  
“Accio your broom, Harry,” he started, eyes sparkling with excitement. “We’re going to fly.”

&&&

Flying with Draco had to be one of the most exhilarating experiences Harry had ever been given the pleasure of living through. They began low, cruising steadily across the terrain. Draco reached for Harry’s hand and held it, arms extended toward each other and brooms side by side. The wind rushed past them as they descended into an approaching valley. There was a relatively small stream ahead that wound through the landscape, and they found themselves treading a few feet above water. Harry reached his remaining hand for the stream, splashing Draco in the face lightheartedly. His first reaction was sheer ire, muttering something about “what it takes to get this hair” before impishly grinning and splashing him back. Draco wasted no time, leaving Harry sopping with one attempt. Startled, he slowed down slightly and wiped his glasses clean while laughing at his own misfortune. Everything had always boiled down to a competition between those two, from quidditch to friendships to, well, splashing. Harry raced forward to catch up with Draco, who’d already flown a few meters ahead. As he closed the distance between them, Draco took a sharp turn upward and began tracing the mountainside. Their brooms were now perpendicular to the ground, and Harry grinned as the wind whipped against his hair and face. There was something special about flying like this; it was as if all of his worries remained fixed to the ground. Here, suspended in mid air, he could pretend that he wasn’t the Chosen One. He was just Harry, and Malfoy was just Draco, and nothing else existed except the two of them. Together.

“Where are we going?” Harry yelled ahead of him, projecting his voice to reach Draco mid-air.  
“You’ll see! It’s not much farther,” was the response, and the two continued in this motion. It wasn’t long before Draco steadied his broom, leveling out so that it was parallel to the ground. He began to follow the edge of the mountainside, which tapered off to form a cliff just up ahead. Harry stayed behind him, unsure of which direction they would be heading but trusting Draco completely. After a few meters, he veered right, taking them over the edge of the cliff so that they were suspended over land. Draco came to a halt, and Harry nearly stumbled into him at the unexpected stop. Beyond them was a clearing, lined with yellow-green grass that swayed freely with the breeze. Along the middle of the open field was a small stream, complete with clear water that trickled over a series of rocks. Even farther ahead was a collection of dense pine trees that formed a deciduous forest. Above them, the silhouette of a mountain peak contrasted against a bright blue sky. Harry was breathless, unaware that a place so serene, so inconspicuous to the world around it, existed.   
Draco, still hovering on his broom, pivoted to face the direction from which they’d flown.

“You can see the castle from here,” he informed Harry, who turned to match his position. The other direction provided a view that was just as spectacular. In the distance was Hogwarts, bordered by the Forbidden Forest and the terrain they had just crossed.

“Wow,” Harry commented, unable to find words. “How did you find this place?”

“I came across it at the beginning of term,” Draco confessed. “I was particularly torn up that day, and I needed an escape. So I went flying. I’ve been coming here every so often just to clear my head.” He lowered his broom, touching ground before dismounting. Harry followed in his foot steps, joining him as he took a seat near the stream.

“It’s perfect, Draco. This place, it’s like it’s straight from a post card.”

“A what?” Draco glanced at Harry, puzzled. Harry chuckled.

“Never mind. It’s a muggle thing.”

Draco scoffed jokingly and relaxed backward, resting his head on the earth. He folded his hands and placed them behind his head, making himself comfortable. Closing his eyes, Draco seemed oddly at peace. Harry wasn’t used to seeing him like this, and it was both satisfying and nerve wracking to witness him in this state. A part of Harry could sit there and watch him all day, his angelic features sculpted against a perfect landscape. The other piece of him longed to reach out and touch him, to physically claim him and become one with him in every way possible. Harry blushed at the thought, and then laid back to join him.

“Are you hungry?” Asked Draco, hardly moving a muscle. The question almost startled Harry; it seemed surreal that such an average concern could come from him in this angelic state.

“Um, yes, I suppose so,” he replied, taking notice of his appetite for the first time since they’d met that day. Draco opened his eyes, sitting up and reaching into his back pocket. He retrieved a small maroon pouch with gold strings and proceeded to unlace it. Harry watched him intently as he reached his arm inside, extending it father and deeper until his entire limb was swallowed within.

“An undetectable extension charm,” Harry observed as Draco pulled out two sandwiches, a few apples, and several wrapped packages of cobbler. Draco nodded, reaching a bit further and revealing a checkered picnic blanket that he spread out before them. He gestured his arm forward, signaling Harry to take a seat.

They both became settled, unwrapping sandwiches and taking bites. Flying had taken more out of him than he initially thought, and Harry scarfed down his sandwich ravenously.

“Hermione uses those charms as well,” Harry continued, “To carry extra text books. She’s quite good at them, actually.”

Draco gaped sarcastically. “What!? Granger uses an illegal charm? She does know it’s illegal, right?”

Harry laughed. “Yes, she knows. She’s not as much of a goody two shoes as you would think.”

“I’m pretty sure I just gained a new level of respect for Granger. She seems to be getting more badass by the day.” Harry shook his head at Draco’s playful acceptance. His expression became serious as he remembered breakfast.

“She knows. About us.”

Without so much as a flinch, Draco nodded. “I figured she did. I could tell she had something on her mind in arithmancy the other day. The only conclusion I could draw was that she’d somehow figured it out for herself.”

“She did.” Harry paused, searching for a reaction from Draco. He came up empty. “Are you upset?”

Draco shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not.” He lowered his sandwich and met eyes with Harry. “When we were apart, I kept envisioning us being together, publicly. I could hold your hand, and sit with your stupid friends. We didn’t care what anyone thought, and it was nice. I wish more than anything that it could be a reality.”

“Me too,” Harry replied softly, drinking in the truthfulness of his words.

“I know that Granger would never betray you. So I know that for the moment, our secret is safe. As long as she doesn’t tell the ginger, we should be fine.”

Harry grimaced, reminded once more that Ron was still in the dark. He sighed. “She promised she wouldn’t tell him. We both know he wouldn’t take it quite as well as she did. She says that we have her support.”

Draco smiled appreciatively. “More badass by the minute, I say.” Harry returned the grin and went back to the remains of his cobbler.

“Where’d you get this food, anyway? It’s delicious.”

“I paid Dobby a visit after breakfast this morning. He was more than willing to help me take you on a proper date.” He winked, and Harry nearly melted.

“This is wonderful, Draco. Thank you.”

“It’s not over yet.” He smirked, but his eyes were innocent and hopeful. He genuinely wanted Harry to enjoy himself.

After finishing lunch, the two laid side by side on the blanket, separated physically but ever closer emotionally. The silence was comforting, but Harry had an agenda. He wanted to get to know Draco Malfoy. All of his ins and outs; his fears and memories. He rolled onto his side to face him, propping his head against his own hand.

“So, when did you figure out that you were nothing like your family?”

Draco’s gaze was distant as he contemplated the answer. “It was a long time coming, but I really began to question everything over summer break, while my father was in Azkaban.” He paused, resting his eyes shut for a moment before continuing.

“My mother was a completely different person after his imprisonment. I thought she would be a wreck, kind of like I was yesterday. But she wasn’t.”

Harry’s focus was undeniably fixed on him.

“She was... liberated. Her posture softened. She spoke more. It was... it was actually very nice.” He opened his eyes and met Harry’s.

“That’s when I realized just how fucked up my father really was. Because I felt myself relax, too. I should’ve been angry, and I was at first, but after everything settled... I felt free.”

Harry placed a hand on top of Draco’s as he continued his story.

“Things were the greatest they’d ever been. There was no mention of the Dark Lord while he was gone, at least not in the house. I didn’t have to fear my words. I didn’t have to worry about getting cursed if he happened to be in a bad mood. I could just... live. And that’s when I started to wonder how things were really going to end up with the Dark Lord in power.”

He ran his thumb along the back of Harry’s hand, tracing gentle circles while he spoke.

“I realized that the way my dad treated me; it was wrong. And He Who Must Not Be Named... from the stories, he’s much worse. I didn’t deserve to be abused. And neither do the muggleborns. And I think I just sort of started to see myself in them.”

Harry could feel his heart filling with joy. To hear these words from Draco... it meant everything.

“I made a vow to distance myself from him. To not allow myself to be hurt by his prejudice. Even if I had to... endure his fury, I didn’t have to let it affect me. When he was released, it was horrible. My mother... she didn’t even kiss him. She was afraid. I always thought that they were just... reserved in their feelings, but I was wrong.”

He picked up his hand and laced their fingers.

“It was just like before he’d left. Like a blanket had settled upon the house that was slowly suffocating us. It was him.” He paused once more, focusing on their intertwined hands before snapping his gaze upward to meet Harry’s.

“He used the Cruciatus on me, Harry.” His eyes were wide with truth, revealing a secret that he’d kept buried deep thus far.

Harry’s jaw dropped; his brow narrowed; he felt the color flush from his face.

“Wh-why?! What reason could he have had to possibly-“

“I wasn’t trying hard enough to emancipate him.”

Harry grew silent, a sea of emotions flooding the surface. He inhaled, composing himself.

“I had no idea, Draco.”

“I know. Not many did. That’s the point, you know. That’s how they maintain control.” He began to finger a piece of grass with one of his loosely woven fingers.

“And I thought the Dursley’s were bad...” His statement was hushed, barely above a whisper.

Draco’s eyes abruptly met his own.  
“What are they like?”

Harry dove into stories of the cupboard he called his bedroom, the neglected meals, the punishments consisting of locked doors and barred windows.

“It’s different for me, though,” he assured Draco, whose look of concern was enough to eat him alive. “They don’t bother me. I mean, sure, they’re horrible people, and I don’t particularly like being there, but... they’re not my parents. I don’t expect love from them. I’ve learned to survive without that.” Draco nodded in understanding.

“When I came to Hogwarts, it made it easier. I made friends. Here, I was somebody. And I don’t just mean for this.” He pointed to his scar. “People showed me the affection that I didn’t realize I was missing. Life got easier. The Dursley’s became more tolerable.”

He glanced down at ground beside him, a smile forming on his lips as his thoughts continued.

“Even you made life easier, as much as we argued. I knew that I was important to you, even though you didn’t like me. Important enough to hate. That helped.”

He picked his own blade of grass as Draco chuckled. “Glad I could be of service to you, Potter.”

A grinning Harry locked eyes with him.

“So, Draco. I have a question to ask you.”

Silver eyes burned with authenticity. “Sure. Anything.”

“What’s your favorite ice cream?”

Draco laughed, really laughed, at Harry’s lighthearted innocence.

“Strawberry, of course. Do I seem daft?”  
Harry dramatically grimaced.

“Nasty! Everyone knows vanilla’s the best.”

“You would. You’re savage, you know.”  
Harry smiled affectionately. They really were polar opposites, and yet... they were exactly alike. The playful bickering made him reminiscent of older times and budding rivalries.

“Okay. Tell me your hobbies.” Harry’s attention was focused solely on the boy before him, drawing in his reaction to quench the thirst for knowledge.

“Hobbies?” He laughed to himself. “Malfoy’s don’t have hobbies. We’re too busy... being adults.”

“You’re right. Malfoy’s don’t. But you do. Come on! What do you like to do for fun?”

“Other than terrorize you?”

“Yes, silly. Other than provoke me for 6 years.”

“To be honest, Harry, I’m not sure. I mean...” He unlaced their fingers and placed both hands behind his head, losing himself in the cyan sky.

“I love the stars. They make me feel...alive. I love flying. Quidditch is fun, but only if the company’s good.” He contemplated further.  
“I like to read. And, believe it or not, I love potions. I could study it for hours...”

Harry cocked his head, curious. “Are you thinking of... you know, becoming a potions master?”

“I haven’t given a lot of thought to life after Hogwarts. I’ve been brainwashed into believing that my only purpose in life is to serve the Dark Lord. Now that I’ve rebelled, I suppose my main focus should be on staying alive.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Harry sympathized easily, gazing at the crisp blue sky that had seemed to darken just a few shades.

“Maybe we can become hermits together? We’ll move to the mountainside, herd goats or something...”

Harry spewed his own saliva at the audacity of such a plan. “Please. Draco Malfoy herd sheep? Did you just say that?”

Draco snickered. “Okay, Okay. You’re right. Maybe no sheep. On the other hand, maybe we could...”

His sentence trailed off as he realized that all of his plans now included Harry. What a rash, presumptuous idea. Not wanting to face the consequences of rejection, he quickly decided to change the subject.

Turning on his own side, he turned to the Chosen One. “Your turn, Potter. Hobbies.”

Harry smiled softly, trying not to overthink the abrupt change in subject.  
“Beating you at Quidditch, of course.”  
Draco rolled his eyes.

“I love adventure. One day, I’d like to travel the world.”

“That’d be awfully boring by yourself, you know.” The sentence had left Draco’s parted lips before he could swallow it.

“It would. It really would.”

They laid there in silence like that for a while, gazing at the sky. Harry’s expression was soft and contemplative as he envisioned a life with Draco. Together. Without the darkness ensuing. He then became reflective, broaching on memories of their lives together thus far.

“So much wasted time.” He muttered unthinkingly. Draco, whose thoughts had found the same space, stifled a giggle.

“Not wasted, Potter. We couldn’t have come this far without hating each other first; I truly believe that.” Draco’s eyes were humorous as he rolled onto his side once more.

“But, come to think of it...” he continued thoughtfully, “I think you liked me all along and were just too chicken to show it.” He winked.

Potter rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes. I was head over heels for you when you made those Potter Stinks badges in fourth year.”

“Those were bloody brilliant, you have to admit!”

“EVERYONE had one! I swear I was beginning to think I stunk myself I saw so many of them. I even threw one at Ron’s head once.”

Draco snickered playfully, but a look of seriousness crossed his face as green eyes met gray. “I’m sorry I was such an arse back then.”

Harry’s expression was coy, a grin tugging at the edges of his lips playfully. “You’re still an arse. But I love you anyway.”

He immediately froze. He hadn’t meant to let that word slip out, but it had rolled from his tongue naturally. It was a moment before he realized that he’d stopped breathing, all of his attention fixed on the face before him. Harry searched for a grimace, any sign that he had fucked up, but it never came. Instead, Draco came closer, leaning his face toward Harry’s until their lips met gently. This kiss wasn’t forced, or urgent; it was giving, patient, and kind. It was an understanding that here, on the side of a mountain, it was them against the world. Draco and Harry; Malfoy and Potter; alone in their little piece of heaven.

All that could be heard was the soft trickle of the stream when Draco pulled back briefly, silver irises flushing green. “I love you, too, Potter.”

A tingling sensation was present from the crown of Harry’s head to the tip of his toes. A feeling of complete serenity washed over him at the sound of Draco’s words. He’d never felt so light, like a feather carried by the wind, and he was giddy with liberation. He broke into a toothy grin, unable to contain himself.

Draco matched him, that favorite smile of Harry’s plastered across his face. And then they were kissing again, Harry’s palms taking hold of either side of Draco’s cheek bones. His fingers were wrapped in locks of blonde hair, grasping the boy he found himself to be hopelessly in love with. Draco’s own hands had become tangled around Harry, placed delicately on either side of his spine. There was a slip of tongue from Draco’s mouth to Harry’s, which was lusciously reciprocated. Harry was beside himself, snogging the boy who- oh my god -he’d just told he loved and, Merlin, was this really happening?

Draco was floating on a cloud, weightless but anchored to this moment. He knew now beyond the shadow of a doubt that Harry was it for him. There would be no other, as long as he lived. Here, wrapped tightly against the raven haired boy was a surreal dream that had somehow become a reality he would refuse to let go.

Draco’s hands descended until they lay on either side of Harry’s waist, resting just above his pants line. Harry slid his own palms down the surface of Draco Malfoy, feeling every dip and curve of his body until they reached the tail of his shirt. Fearlessly, his hands slid beneath the fabric, and he greedily began to discover the smoothness of his bare chest. His fingers grazed across Draco’s nipples, which felt tight with anticipation. A shudder ran down Draco’s spine at the contact, and he responded by sliding around to the front of Harry’s pants. Ripe with longing, Harry slid his own hands lower, lower, until they reached Draco’s hip bones. Feeling adventurous and confident, he rolled his body on top of Draco’s and quickly flashed him a smile. Draco’s breath was heavy and quick with desire as Harry bent forward and began biting softly against the surface of his neck. Lifting Draco’s shirt, he then planted kisses along the nakedness of his chest and abdomen. Pleasure did not even begin to cover the hormonal state that Draco was in, and he found himself squirming against Harry. Unable to control himself, Draco spun over and rolled them so that he was on top. From this view, he could appreciate Harry from a whole new perspective. He truly was beautiful, and Draco possessively pressed his own body against him. It was his turn to tempt, and he started by slowly running his hands beneath Harry’s shirt. Continuing to lock their lips, Draco’s hands found the zipper of Harry’s pants and began to blindly unfold them. Pulling apart his jeans, Draco felt the loose cotton of Harry’s shorts along his fingertips. Recognizing what was beneath, Draco meant to slip a hand in the front opening of his shorts, but then...

“Did you feel that?” Draco paused, sure he had felt something wet hit the back of his neck.

“No, what is it?” Harry looked concerned, and Draco shook his head. He must’ve imagined it. Trying to resume the moment, he leaned forward to press his lips to Harry’s. But then he felt it again, this time on his right shoulder. Separating, he glanced up at the sky. What was once cloudless had become scattered with puffs of gray, the most of which were hovering right above them.

“Oh, no, Harry, I think it’s-“ Draco was interrupted by the loud clap of thunder followed by an immediate downpour. The rain was pounding down heavily, released in sheets that made it hard to see. Puddles quickly began forming around them, cultivated by the storm that appeared from no where. Draco sighed, already sopping wet.

“Come on, let’s go before the lightning starts!” He called to Harry over the combined sound of rain, thunder, and wind. The temperature had seemed to drop a few degrees, and Draco shivered as he helped Harry to his feet. Zipping his pants hastily, Harry mounted his broom and took off southward with Draco. Rain of this magnitude made flying difficult; the wind caused the broom to shift direction while the water made it hard to grip. They traced the path from which they’d come, returning to the castle soaked. The ran let up significantly upon entering the school grounds; it was barely drizzling now. Certainly not enough to cause anyone to leave Hogsmeade, Harry realized with relief. It seemed that even in their current damp state, they would still have some time alone together while remaining unseen.

Dripping and chilled to the bone, Draco was about to cast a drying charm on himself when Harry put a hand on the tip of his wand. Lowering it, Draco gave him a questioning look.

“You know what works better than those quick fix charms? A hot shower.” Draco nodded, giving him a look that said “obviously” before he got the hint. His eyes widened at Harry’s subtle suggestion, and he nodded again, willing.

“I know the password to the prefect bathroom,” Harry offered, “and all of the prefects should be at Hogsmeade for a while longer...” he trailed off, suddenly shy.

Draco squeezed his hand. “Take me there.”

&&&

The entrance to the prefect’s washroom creaked as the duo made passage. They hadn’t spoken much; there was a heaviness between them composed of nervousness and anticipation. This was all new territory for both of them, undiscovered terrain that only hands could explore. Harry led the way, approaching a large open shower lined with the same stone that built the castle walls. Stepping inside, he noticed the sheer size of the area before he felt a hand grasp his bicep lightly. He turned to face Draco, whose expression was humble. Harry took a moment to appreciate his appearance; platinum hair sticking up at the edges uncharacteristically, shirt untucked and clinging to him in all the right places. There was something intimate about seeing Draco this way, unkempt and raw.

Harry wanted nothing more than to share with him the closeness he felt, and he stepped forward with the intent on doing so. Draco met him halfway, the same serious expression adorning his face. He clearly felt the connection as well, sparks invisibly igniting the air between them. Draco reached his hands forward, gripping the base of Harry’s shirt silently. He pulled it upward, gliding superiorly until it was slipped over his head and was tossed onto the floor beside them.

Draco swooned at shirtless Harry, his long torso blending into the “v” of his groin. Harry returned the favor, starting at the top and unbuttoning his way down Draco’s shirt. His eyes never left Draco’s, holding them steadily while his chest became slowly exposed. At the last button Harry shrugged the shirt from his shoulders, and Draco immediately pressed against him. The intimacy of skin upon skin was indescribable. Chills ran down Harry’s spine, shaking him to the core. His instincts began to take control as he felt his prick harden beneath his waistline. And then they were kissing again, except this time there was an air of urgency, of desire and passion burning between them. Draco’s hands flew to Harry’s belt and began unfastening without further delay. He yanked them downward, revealing the plaid of Harry’s shorts in between panting breaths that were all but exhausted. Harry took it upon himself to kick his pants off the rest of the way, awkwardly stumbling a bit in the process as he removed his shoes and socks. Draco smiled, in love with this corky bastard who- Merlin- he’d never seen stripped down to just his boxers. It was intoxicating, being with Harry, especially when he could feel his prick stiff against the leg of his pants. Harry sensed it as well and didn’t hesitate to unfasten Draco’s trousers, breaking their kiss to lower himself so that he could do the honors of sliding them to the floor. Draco gasped as Harry paused at his shorts, placing a kiss on the black fabric in the area of the tent that had clearly been pitched. As he did this, his hands removed the pants from each ankle. Draco kicked off his shoes simultaneously, and all that remained was the two of them almost naked in the shower. Without breaking Draco’s gaze, Harry reached for the faucet and turned the warm water on. Before stepping under the fountain, there was a silent understanding of what had to happen next. With a small nod from both sides, Draco and Harry proceeded to unclothe themselves at the same time. Harry tossed his boxers along the wall and stepped toward Draco, who was gaping at the sight of naked Harry. They were close now, but not touching, and Draco took the opportunity to remove Harry’s glasses for him. Somehow, the gesture was intimate, and Harry without his glasses was too much for Draco to handle. He sat them folded onto the ledge of the nearest wall, never breaking Harry’s gaze. Harry extended his hand and led Draco beneath the water, pulling him close until their bodies were touching. The stream poured over them, transforming hair into wet strands and traveling in beads that tinged pale skin into heated pink. Steam was beginning to cloud around them, and Draco brought Harry in for a series of kisses. The warm sensation of the water on their faces felt nice, but not quite as nice as the slick feeling of wet bodies pressed against one another. Harry’s erection was pressing into Draco’s thigh, and he adjusted his hips so that their pricks grazed each other. Draco moaned immediately, returning the motion with a forward slip of his pelvis. Harry took a moment to bite his bottom lip softly, all the while moving his hands to grip Draco’s arse protectively. That was his arse, and his Draco, and, God, he was so close, Harry could barely take it... he retracted his hips slightly to prevent from finishing. It was amazing that it took so little contact to have this effect on him; Harry could only imagine what’s itd be like to actually have sex when the time came. Draco was slightly thankful that Harry had pulled back as he himself was getting uncomfortably aroused. Harry broke apart their lips momentarily, reaching for the soap on the ledge nearest them. He unfolded a wash cloth from the pile next to it and began lathering, his next move in mind. Draco immediately understood, returning the soap for Harry after the cloth was good and sudsy. A small smile had formed on Harry’s lips as he began to wash Draco’s body for him, beginning at the center of his chest. He glided the cloth across collar bones, along shoulders, and down his back. As he scrubbed softly southward, he approached Draco’s arse and lowered himself onto his knees for more leverage. Draco groaned as he softly rubbed the cloth along the area, moving lower until he’d reached his ankles. He then came round to the front, washing each leg and ascending each thigh. He used a hand to press his legs open slightly wider and dragged the washcloth along his inner thighs, eliciting a shiver from Draco. Harry then reached to clean the space between his arse and his cock, a nervous anticipation taking over. 

Draco found himself in ecstasy, silently begging Harry for more, allowing small groans to escape from his throat. Harry grinned coyly and decided to lovingly tease him by bringing the cloth forward to his stomach. He washed this area clean before going back downward, taking some of the soap from the cloth onto his hand. He then placed it around the base of his penis and pulled forward, sliding his hand back and forth until Draco was writhing. “Please, Harry, oh my god, don’t stop.” His pleas were no longer silent, and before Draco could finish Harry rose back up to plant a soft kiss to his lips.

“Mmm,” Draco moaned before taking the wash cloth from his hand. “My turn,” he whispered.

He started by running the wash cloth along the back of Harry’s neck, dragging it across his shoulders and massaging it along each arm. He then reached his arms around his torso, cleaning his back for him before guiding him to the wall behind them. Harry’s skin was cold against the stone as he slid to the floor, never breaking eye contact. Draco seated himself before him and began to rub soap along each of his legs intently. Harry’s breathing was heavy, erection bobbing slightly at Draco’s touch. As he made his way forward, Draco’s hands traced the contour of the inner surface of Harry’s thighs. A hand on either side, Draco abandoned the wash cloth as he slid them proximally until he reached Harry’s swollen penis. He lightly ran his thumbs across his perineum, pulling an audible groan from above. He then reached his lips forward and kissed that same spot before pulling back to place his mouth around the head of Harry’s cock. His entire body shuddered as Draco continued to place the entire length down his throat. He sucked gently, moving his tongue in swirls around the base. “Ah, Draco,” were the words escaping from Harry’s lips, “So...good, Merlin, please...”

Draco smirked around his dick, pleased with himself. He’d never done this before, and he wanted to return the favor after Harry had done this for him. He continued to push forward and pull back repeatedly, keeping a tight grip with his tongue. He used an absent hand to begin caressing his testicles, stimulating even more pleasure. “Draco, oh my god, love, if you don’t stop... I’m gonna... mm...”

Hearing these words, Draco released him, not wanting to have him cum yet. Harry eyed him, and Draco crawled between his legs and placed his knees on either side of his hips so that their nether regions were in close contact. His chest was pressed against Harry’s but he was slightly above him and able to look down into blazing green eyes. Brushing a lock of Harry’s hair back, Draco spoke: “I love you. I need you, Harry, in so many ways. I want to have all of you, but only if you feel the same.”

Harry nodded. “I want nothing more, Draco. I’m ready. I’ve never been more ready.”

Draco pressed his lips to Harry’s and rolled his hips forward so that his cock was pushing downward, rubbing against Harry’s. He sighed with pleasure, panting at the closeness before breaking apart. “I want to do this, Harry. I want our first time to be absolutely perfect. But something tells me that the floor of the shower isn’t the place...” Draco searched Harry’s face for any sign of hurt or anger, but he nodded in response. “You’re right.”

Bringing their lips together, Harry smiled before he continued. “But I think I know the perfect place.”

&&&

Draco was buttoning his shirt; Harry was buckling his pants. The two were grinning incessantly, having come inches away from losing their virginity and somehow still feeling quite lucky. Excitement hung in the atmosphere, Harry promising Draco he knew a place for them but refusing to spoil the surprise. They had agreed to separate for a while; everyone would be returning from Hogsmeade soon. After dinner Harry would meet Draco at the entrance to the dungeons and lead him to their own personal paradise.

Harry gazed at Draco finishing the last few buttons. His hair was beginning to dry, still a bit frayed and wild. Harry loved him like this, reveling in the closeness of their last moments. Draco looked up, lips turning up into a shy smile that caused Harry’s stomach to lurch.

“You know, if you would’ve told me I’d be showering with Draco Malfoy a few years ago, I’d’ve hexed you.” He stated, grinning sheepishly.

“Not me. I always thought you had a nice arse.” Draco sniggered playfully while slipping on his shoes.

Fingers laced, they exited the Prefect’s bathroom after piecing themselves back together. Time seemed to creep as they continued down the corridor together, not a soul around to separate them. “Love,” thought Harry, a warmth welling up in his chest at the sight of the smiling boy beside him. “This is love.”

When they approached the end of their route, Draco snuck one more peck in Harry’s direction. He’d never felt more normal, more natural, more human than here with this boy. He wasn’t just the Chosen One, he was Draco’s chosen, and that meant so much more.

“I’ll see you,” he promised, stealing one more kiss. Harry grinned, almost dizzy with anticipation.

&&&

Draco’s trek to the Slytherin common room was a confident one. Knowing what he knew now, armed with Harry’s unwavering love, Draco was unstoppable. He owned the hallways once more, living up to his good ole Malfoy reputation with slightly less belligerence. He passed a group of Slytherin first years as he approached the dungeons, one of which paused to greet him: “Hi, Draco!”

She was of short, thin stature topped with an exceptionally round face that accentuated her youth. Draco recognized her vaguely, having spotted her once or twice in the Great Hall and in the common room. Normally, he may have ignored her, or thrown a glance in her general direction at best. Today, however, he was in high spirits.

“Hey.” He came to a halt, observing the doings of the younger group. They had what appeared to be a paper snake, sprawled out lifelessly in the center of their circle. The girl’s eyes were twinkling, honored to have Malfoy pay her the time of day. “What do we have here?”

“Chan’s older brother says there’s a charm that can bring origami to life,” her glance shifted to a slightly older bloke of Asian descent across from her, maybe in his 2nd or 3rd year. “But we absolutely suck.” Draco twisted his lips and reached for his wand, running his vision along the circumference of the group.

“Like this one?” He verbally declared, pointing his wand at the paper creature. Crimson sparks emitted from the tip of the Hawthorne like infinitesimal fireworks, summoning the snake to life. The paper crunched and crumpled as the pseudo-reptile began to slither around the group, periodically smelling the air for prey. It lifted its folded head, coiling its body and striking forward at no one in particular. The baby-faced girl clapped her hands excitedly, turning to Draco with delight.

“Chan’s brother was right! Thanks Draco!” She blushed vividly in her gratitude, no doubt crushing on the older Slytherin. Draco flashed her the infamous Malfoy smolder, somewhat crossed with a haughty smirk that was known for making the girls swoon. It was different from the smile he reserved for Harry, much less honest and much more pompous. Having served the world and completed his charitable deed, Draco winked at the group and kept on his way. Something in him had changed again, constructively molded him from “Malfoy” to Harry’s “Draco” even more so than it had already. 

When he entered the common room, Pansy was sitting across from Vincent Crabbe. Cloud nine wasn’t too high to speak with her, and Draco approached the two in good spirits. “Parkinson. Crabbe. How’s was Hogsmeade?”

Pansy had a terrible poker face, regardless of intent. She shot him a sideways glance without moving so much as a centimeter.

“Draco.”

She said nothing more but pulled out a file and began working vigorously at her nails.

“It was fun,” answered Crabbe, attempting to save the awkwardness of the present moment. “Spent way too much time in Honey Duke’s.” He patted his belly, and Draco snickered. Pansy refused to look up from her manicure; his presence had no more validity than a ghost’s. He wondered what the fuck her problem was but chalked it up to typical Pansy angst.

Giving Vincent a pat on the shoulder, Draco made his leave. “I’ll see you two around.” He went to the dormitory, deciding it best to freshen up and prepare for tonight’s events.

&&&

“Seems smug, doesn’t he?” Vincent Crabbe asked a nonchalant Pansy, who had finally stowed away her nail file.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “When isn’t he? Arrogant prat.” Her anger was obvious, albeit her intent was hidden.

“Got a bone to pick with Malfoy, Pans?” Crabbe raised his eyebrows, shocked at her reaction.

“No, no bones, dear. I just call it how I see it.” She crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. It was only a matter of time, she assured herself, before justice would be served.


	13. Marshmallows

Harry closed the lid to his trunk, having retrieved the presumed necessities for the evening ahead. He packed a change of clothes and pajamas, just in case. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure that Draco would want to spend the night with him, but better safe than sorry, right? He blushed at his own assumption, hoping that he was correct.

He wasn’t sure if he’d need anything else; he’d never exactly done this before. His cheeks were tingling at the thought of what was possibly to come. His lips twinged into a small smile as he shrunk his belongings and placed them into a sack. At the top he packed his folded invisibility cloak, something that this time he would not forget. Hiding his things beneath his bed, he planned on returning after supper to avoid suspicion.

He descended the stairs into the common room and was greeted by Ron and Hermione who had just returned from Hogsmeade.

“Got you something to help you feel better, mate!” Ron tossed him a plastic bag of the color violet, stuffed full with treats from Honey Duke’s. Harry responded with a wide grin, unfolding one of the chocolates. “Thanks!”

As the truffle melted on his tongue, a qualm seemed to creep steadily from his gut. Ron may have been a close minded git at times, but he was Harry’s best mate regardless. It hurt to lie to the fellow, and Harry felt a pang of regret hit his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to come clean, to confess to Ron the love he felt for Draco. To empathize and share in his feelings for Hermione. To do what best mates were meant to do.

Hermione seemed to notice Harry’s subtle change in demeanor and shot him an apologetic smile.

“So, what’d you guys do today?” Harry questioned, attempting to mask the guilt by conversing lightly.

“Oh, the usual. Hermione dragged me to the bookshop; I made her go look at brooms. And then we ate at The Three Broomsticks.” He paused. “Much better than the day you’ve had, I’m sure.”

Harry blinked, forgetting for a split second that Ron was completely unaware that today had been one of his greatest thus far. “Uh, Yeah, I’m sure it was.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Let’s get to dinner, then, shall we?” Piped Hermione, stifling any further conversation on the particular subject matter.

“Great idea, ‘Mione. I’m starving!” Ron, chipper as ever, led the way through the portrait hole and to the Great Hall. Any awkward uncertainties faded as Ron steered the conversation, excitedly telling Harry of the latest broom model he’d been coveting. Letting go of his guilt momentarily, Harry dove head first into the subject and humored Ron by asking all of the right questions. Nothing would ruin his night; Harry was beside himself with a sort of giddy exuberance.

The doors to the Great Hall were propped wide open as the trio made entrance. The room was already bustling with students hungrily serving themselves after a day out on the town. At the Gryffindor table was Neville, who appeared to be invested in an extremely humorous conversation with someone seated across from him. At closer inspection, it appeared that the robes that adorned her weren’t red at all; instead, the black material was lined with the color of buttercups.

“Is she allowed to sit there?” Asked Ron tactlessly. Luckily, they were out of hearing range, and Hermione elbowed him.

“Ron, you have the manners of a rat! Of course she’s allowed to sit there; haven’t you heard of House unity? Plus, don’t you see how happy Neville looks?”

Upon second glance, it was obvious that the toothy grin worn by Neville was the result of the golden-haired Hufflepuff across from him.

“That’s Hannah!” Harry exclaimed wildly, conclusions forming quickly. “She has Defense Against the Dark Arts with us.”

Ron nodded. The three chose to sit at the far end of the table, away from Neville and his new friend for privacy reasons.

“Wonder if they were at Hogsmeade together today?” He asked, heaping mashed potatoes onto his plate ravenously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We only passed them hand in hand about a hundred times, Ronald.”

“Hey, ‘s not my fault I didn’t notice! All of my attention was on you!” Hermione flushed at the unexpected compliment and smiled shyly, filling her own plate.

Harry shook his head, chortling at the two friends and wondering how much longer he’d have to wait before they’d admit their feelings for each other.

He stole another glance at Longbottom, who was laughing heartily with the girl. Harry had never paid much attention to her before, but he now noticed that she had a lovely smile. Not nearly as captivating as Draco’s, but sweet enough. Especially for Neville, who’s eyes were practically bugging with affection.

Another thought crossed Harry’s mind, as he contemplated Draco sitting across from him. “Pass me the butter, Potter,” he would say in that haughty voice of his, “You Gryffindors eat like pigs. It’s a wonder you didn’t snort food on us across the Hall.” And Ron would want to kill him, but only for a brief moment before Draco unleashed that perfect smile of his that signaled his satire was all in good fun.

Better yet, what would happen if he were to stalk right on over to the Slytherin table and take a seat? He’d be hexed, for sure;  
every Slytherin around would have their wand drawn. “The precious Chosen One, at our measly table?” The sarcastic whispers would bounce amongst the students, every one of them harboring a personal grudge against Harry. Or maybe not. Maybe Draco would tell Pansy and Blaise that they were a couple. And maybe, somehow... they’d be ok with it. And maybe Harry would be welcomed as one of their chosen for being in love with the Slytherin Prince.

Harry shook himself from his fantasy. All daydreaming aside, the question still remained: would he and Draco ever become a public couple? As much as Harry knew the consequences, something inside of him refused to care about the fall out. He knew that homosexual wizards faced enough prejudice in society, and he could only imagine the torment he and Malfoy would endure. He could see the Daily Prophet headlines printed vividly in black and white: “Potter claims Dark Lord is back; Has sexual relations with his biggest supporter,” “The chosen one chooses to like boys,” “Harry Potter: gay or nay?” The list could go on and on. The tabloids wouldn’t bother him too much; after the ministry’s tirade against him last year, his skin had grown thick. Would they bother Draco?

If it weren’t for his father, Harry was sure that Draco would parade him proudly throughout the halls. Just the thought of Lucius Malfoy made Harry nauseous, even more so after getting to know Draco personally. He sighed internally, shaking the thought from his mind. Even in secret, Harry was lucky to call Draco his own. He would let nothing and no one ruin their time together, not even his own pessimism.

Shifting his eyes laterally, he caught a glimpse of the devil himself having what appeared to be a joke with Zabini. There he was, seraph in nature, glowing with a radiance that set Harry on fire. Had he always been so perfect, Harry just numb to the burn?

“What are you looking at?” Ron Weasley turned around in his seat, attempting to match Harry’s line of sight. Harry started, unaware of how obvious his crush on Draco had become. Just proximal to the Slytherin table were the Hufflepuffs, Hannah’s friends crowded in the directions of Harry’s stare.

“Susan Bones, mate? Is that who you’re sneaking around with?” Ron grinned excitedly, hoping he’d just solved the mystery of Harry’s anonymous girlfriend. Immediately noticing the scrunched grimace that was Harry’s first reaction, Ron pivoted once more.

On the closer side of the Hufflepuffs were the Ravenclaws, Cho and Marietta conversing lightly before them. Ron’s jaw dropped and brow furrowed as he turned back around to give Harry what for.

“Really, Harry!? Cho again!? Honestly, after last year I thought you’d know better!”

“Shhh!” Harry and Hermione both hushed the redhead who was quite worked up over his assumption. 

“No, I’m not with Cho! I do know better!” Harry hissed reassuringly. A befuddled expression came across the Weasley’s face as he made one last turn. Harry stayed quiet, humoring Ron while doubting his ability to guess. His eyes peered to the Slytherin table, confirming the presence of Draco and his followers.

“Well, it’s not Parkinson. I’m stumped.” Ron concluded, shrugging and taking a bite of his roast.

“Why don’t you mind your own business and let Harry tell you when he’s ready?” Suggested a flustered Hermione.

“Come on, aren’t you curious, Hermione?”

“No! I am most definitely not!”

“Unless...” Ron continued, ignoring her. “Unless you’ve figured it out! You know, don’t you!?”

Hermione was silent. Harry was gaping. And Ron was on to something.

“Hermione, how could you know!? How could you know and not tell me? Did you tell her!?” He turned to point a finger at Harry, who quickly shook his head in response.

“Ronald, I-“

“You know what?” Ron raised a finger to emphasize his point. “Don’t worry about it. You’re right. It’s none of my business.”

“Ron, listen,” Harry attempted to salvage the situation. “I would have told you ages ago had I thought you wouldn’t hate me for it.”

“Hate you? Why in the bloody hell would I do that?”

“It’s just- when you find out who I’ve been seeing, you might not like it.”

Ron gave him a dumbfounded, slightly frustrated expression. “Look, mate, it doesn’t matter if I like the girl or not. I’m not that lousy of a friend.”

Harry felt himself relax a little. Could it be? Could Ron really not fault him for choosing who he did?

“Thanks, Ron. You have no idea how much that means. I’m just... not quite ready to tell yet. But when I am, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Ron nodded. “I suppose that’ll work then.” He smiled before taking a bite out of his third roll.

&&&

Pansy was quiet, but that was OK. Draco and Blaise were having the time of their lives discussing the earlier events of Hogsmeade.

“So, here’s Nott, totally trying to get in with this 7th year. He slides up next to her in Honey Duke’s- the poor girl is just trying to pick out some chocolate- and he puts his arm up like this-“ Blaise paused to raise his arm above his head as if he was leaning against an invisible wall. “And he says ‘Hey girl, you think this is candy? I can show you to a real treat.’ And I’m like ‘Please don’t tell me he’s going to get lucky off of that one liner.’” Draco was already hysterical. If there was a story teller in the group, it was definitely Blaise, and he had all but perfected the art.

“So she smiles at him, and I’m like ‘Fuck, I’m about to owe Goyle some money if this works.’ And that’s when she looks him up and down, puts her hands on his waistline, gets real close... and then she pantsed him. In front of everyone.”

Draco was crying, he swore, and even Pansy cracked a smile in all her stubbornness. Blaise himself was absolutely losing it while recounting the memory. Theodore Nott sat a few seats down, pouting at the embarrassment and throwing a roll at Blaise for repeating the incident.

“Don’t be sour, Nott, thats the farthest you’ve ever gone with a girl!” Blaise tossed the roll back playfully, hitting him in the left shoulder.

“What about you, Dray? Did you have a good day playing hermit?” Blaise was in an exceptionally joyous mood, matching Draco’s giddy stupor. Together, they were unbeatable.

“It was excellent, Blaise. Thank you for your concern,” Draco grinned facetiously.

“I am so glad. So, so glad your day was grand.” Blaise passed him a roll. “That’s what friends are for.” He winked, the brotherly love present but flippant in its entirety. 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You two are chipper.”

“Just because you haven’t gotten laid lately doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be miserable, Pans.” Blaise patted her shoulder with feigned concern.

“Oh, shut it!” Pansy shoved him, but grinned teasingly. Draco watched, absorbing the moment. Maybe the mood was contagious after all. He glanced up at Potter, who appeared to be pleased. Melting, Draco leaned his face onto his hand, propping himself by the elbow. Claiming the boy, even silently from across the room, was enough to feel his insides goop like wax from a burning candle. Perhaps that was it all along; the flames between them too strong, too fierce to touch. Now, he reveled in the remnants of wax pooling about the base, enjoying the warmth from the wick.

&&&

Harry gripped his bag tightly and draped the invisibility cloak over his head. It wasn’t quite curfew, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He journeyed downward toward the dungeons, a mixture of nervousness and excitement coating his insides. He wanted to jump; he wanted to vomit; the sensations were flickering by the minute. What if Draco changed his mind about their insinuated plans? And, worse, what if he hadn’t and was disappointed when the time came? Harry was definitely new at this; what if he didn’t do it...correctly? Oh, Merlin, he came to a halt and bent over, supporting himself by placing a hand on the nearest wall. Panting, he wondered if he was actually about to vomit. Breathe in, breathe out, he told himself. Where was his Gryffindor courage now?

“You’ve faced Voldemort,” he told himself, “you shouldn’t be scared shitless right now.” He chuckled to himself, realizing the silliness of his current situation. Sighing at his own stupidity, he continued toward the dungeons.

&&&

There he was, propped with his back against the castle wall, looking left to right nervously. There wasn’t another soul in sight, and Harry forgot momentarily that he was invisible. He approached Draco, unveiling himself.

The smile that crossed Draco’s face at Harry’s arrival was enough to quell any and all fear.

“You came,” he said softly, and Harry chuckled.

“Did you really think I’d skip out on you? Sorry, love. You’re stuck with me.” He stepped forward to encircle Draco, who wrapped his arms around him tightly. Harry nuzzled the space between his neck and shoulder, breathing in the smell of fresh cologne and hair gel. Malfoy’s scent. 

Draco turned his head to rest his face in a mess of raven black hair. “You know, I like it when you call me that. It’s nice.” He appreciated the aroma of Harry; the brisk smell of burnt wood from the Gryffindor fire place woven with a hint of eucalyptus...from shampoo maybe? And suddenly he knew exactly what a whiff of amortentia would entail.

Harry didn’t reply, but rubbed his face gently against Draco’s chest.

“So, where are you taking me?” Draco peered downward at Harry, sliding his hand back and forth between his shoulder blades.

Harry smiled, pulling back. “Come on, ill show you.” And with that, he threw the invisibility cloak over top of them, grabbed Draco by the hand, and began leading them hastily toward the stairs. Grinning ear to ear, Draco followed, coming to appreciate the rashness of his Gryffindor.

Ascending the stairs was no easy feat with Harry attempting to run and Draco trying his best not to stumble on the cloak. They completed one case, and then another before hopping into a moving set of steps. “Are you taking us the back route to the astronomy tower?” Draco whispered hesitantly.

“No, silly. That’s no place to... well, to continue our date.” He spoke over his shoulder, continuing to lead Draco. The boy relaxed, having become rigid from his suspicion. They kept onward, and Draco was sure his legs would fall off by the time they reached the seventh floor.

Harry guided him down the corridor, until they stopped outside of a large stretch of blank stone. Behind them was a tapestry that Draco immediately recognized. He gasped.

“The Room Of Requirement! Why didn’t I think of that?” Harry winked, shrugging the cloak off of them. Holding hands, they paced back and forth three times in silence, holding the assumption that they were both thinking of the same need.

They came to a halt before opening the entrance, and Draco glanced at Harry knowingly before they each took a handle and pulled.

The Room was cozier than Harry had ever seen it. This was definitely not a place to hide something, or to hold DA meetings. This was a space to take your boyfriend. And it was perfect.

On the left side of the room stood a very large four poster bed, with plenty of room for two. It was adorned with red blanketing and several fluffy pillows that matched the rug on the floor in front of it. The rug itself appeared to be velvet, a crimson addition to the dark hardwood floor. On the opposite wall was a fireplace, roaring already and adjacent to two arm chairs that sat facing each other. Beyond that was a small table and chairs, exquisite for dining in. The wall farthest from them was draped with a tapestry, the intricacies of which pictured Hogwarts as viewed from across the lake. In the farthest left corner was a strangely large cabinet of dark cherry wood.

They entered the room, closing the doors behind them and sealing themselves from the rest of the world. Draco toured the room, running a hand first along the soft fabric of the comforter. He then approached the cabinet, opening it and inspecting its contents. It was hollow, empty, and Draco had a strange feeling occur when Harry approached from behind. “What is it?”

Harry’s voice was barely above a whisper. He stopped at Draco’s side, observing him feel along the length of the furniture. His face was perplexed, contemplative.

“This isn’t a normal piece of furniture,” he stated. “I’ve seen this before. In Borgin and Burke’s, with my father. It’s a vanishing cabinet.”

“But why would we have a vanishing cabinet at Hogwarts? And... why did the Room provide us with one?”

“I’m not sure.” He turned to face Harry. “But in theory, we could place something in this cabinet, and it would vanish and then re-appear in knockturn alley. It’s not that big of a deal for us, it’s just odd...”  
He paused while continuing to slide his hand against the wood, as if by feeling it he could reveal its secrets.

“I wonder why it appeared to us,” Draco stated, thinking aloud and deciding to close the double doors.

“Maybe we needed to see this. The room is smart, you know, in its own way. Sometimes it knows what you need more than you do.” Draco nodded, running a finger along the woodwork before pivoting toward Harry.

“Unless you were thinking about various types of cabinetry outside,” Draco suggested with a wry smile. 

“No,” Harry tittered, “definitely not.”

There was a moment where neither of them spoke, a look of seriousness dressed upon Draco’s face as he studied Harry. Then, he suggested they try out the chairs and sit by the fire for a while. Harry happily obliged, following Draco and taking a seat across from him.

&&&

The crackling of the logs was relaxing to Draco. It reminded him of his childhood, on the days it would snow outside Malfoy Manor. His mother would have the house elves burn a fire to keep Draco warm, and they’d often bring him hot cocoa with marshmallows as a treat. He had always assumed it was his mother’s doing, but he never knew for sure.

He snapped out of his memory to glance at Harry, who was returning his gaze. Harry’s hands were folding in front of him; his elbows were propped on each knee as he slouched forward. He looked rather comfortable regardless, and when their eyes met he showed a shy smile.

“Draco,” he said, and he straightened to listen to Harry. “Can I... ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“How did you know... that you were gay?” Harry blinked, unsure of himself or why he was asking this question. For some reason, he felt he needed to know.

“I didn’t,” was Draco’s response, “I knew that I wasn’t interested in any of the girls that wanted me. But I never knew why.” He paused, playing with his hands and shifting his eyes downward.

“But then, one day, I saw you, and it was as if everything was different.” He moved his line of sight to meet Harry’s. “I knew that you thought I was a death eater. I knew that you probably hated me. And for some reason, I didn’t hate you. Not even a little. I was intrigued by you, interested. I’ve known you since we were kids but I saw something in you I’d never seen before.

And then, Pansy made that prophecy, and at first I thought she had made the whole thing up just to try and convince me to be with her... but she really does take divination seriously.” He rolled his eyes, and continued: “I brushed it off, thinking nothing of it. And then, during that Quidditch match, you saved me... I saw your eyes. Emerald, like she said. And I wanted to vomit, because I knew what that meant. I knew that you were it for me, and I didn’t know what to do with that information. All I knew was that I wanted you.”

Harry found himself speechless at Draco’s confession. He smiled softly, reaching out to take Draco’s hands. Draco gave them a squeeze, peering downward before he continued shyly: “What about you? How did you know?”

Surprised even at himself, Harry laughed. He giggled himself silly, and he wasn’t even sure why. Perhaps it was because after hearing Draco’s speech, he had not a doubt in his mind that tonight would be its own form of magical. Or maybe it was because he was staring at the boy he was absolutely head over heels for. And with everything dark approaching, it seemed impossible to be sitting across from Draco Malfoy and, well, laughing. Harry relaxed finally, wiping tears from his eyes.

Draco looked puzzled, but amused, waiting for Harry’s explanation. “I’m sorry, Draco, I’m just so, so happy.” He adjusted his glasses, which had slipped down the bridge of his nose and were now slightly cocked.

Draco laughed softly, smiling at his mate. Harry settled back, preparing himself.

“God, Draco, I can’t describe it. I didn’t know, either. I would’ve never known. I had that sort-of fling with Cho last year, and I thought that my complete disinterest was because of her. I tried to look at girls, because that was what I was supposed to do. I’d see Ron and Hermione, and I’d get jealous because I wanted what they had. But nothing felt right.” He paused, and Draco’s lips pursed into a slanted line.

“Are the Weas- Ron and Hermione a couple?”

“Basically. They’re in love with each other, it’s obvious. But they’re both too stubborn to make the first move.” Draco nodded.

“Anyway, so that’s where I was for a while. And then I started stalking you-“ they both chuckled- “and it turned into sort of an obsession. I was trying to turn you into your father, and it completely baffled me when I discovered that you’re nothing like him. All of a sudden, you became like a light to me. I was drawn to you. I still had my suspicions, but I needed you to prove me wrong. There was something indescribable about you, Draco. At first, my curiosity was piqued. But shortly thereafter, the emotion changed into something much more tangible: I liked you. And then I discovered that I LIKED you, you know, like that. And that confused me even more...” Grassy eyes met steel.

“I had dreams about you. And it just felt right. Nothing had ever felt so right. I fell in love with you Draco, and here we are.”

Draco said nothing, but rose from his chair and voyaged the land between them. The seats were fairly large, almost spacious enough for two. Almost.

He wordlessly placed himself next to Harry, thighs pressed together tightly. He turned his shoulders to face Harry, whose breath had visibly quickened. Draco drew a line with the back of his fingers, starting at Harry’s temple and tracing down to his jaw. Harry closed his eyes, exhaling as he tried to contain himself. That touch alone could make him crazy, and he reveled in the pleasure as Draco continued to caress him.

The scent of Harry’s breath was enough to make Draco’s head swim. Harry opened his eyes and lifted his own hand to rest comfortably below Draco’s left ear. He lay his fingers against the posterior surface of Draco’s neck and placed his thumb just lateral to his Adam’s apple. Watching it bob slightly as Draco swallowed did nothing less than arouse him. Neither had spoken, and when Draco lowered his hand to grip Harry’s upper arm, all of the tension within seemed to explode.

Flames turned to fireworks as Harry pulled Draco’s lips to his. Here, in this moment, was a fire that burned and ensued a passion so great that Draco felt an inherent need to be one with Harry. Instantly, Harry could sense this within Draco; an urgency to close the gap between themselves and their bodies. One kiss turned into a series of deeper ones, Harry retracting and coming closer in quick succession. Tongues were flush, sliding smoothly between lips and mouths and everything in between. 

Draco’s hands found the collar of Harry’s shirt, fumbling with the fabric and using it to pull him even closer. He waited a moment before sliding them to the top button, and with a quick nod from Harry, he began to undo it. They continued to snog each other senseless, and Draco descended button, after button, after button until Harry’s shirt was gaping across his chest. God, how he wanted him; the desire was enough to make his cock swell. And it did.

Draco began planting kisses steadily down Harry’s neck, running his hands beneath the edges of his open shirt. He grazed across the smoothness of Harry’s skin, caressing it’s surface gently while his mouth entertained the upper aspects of him.

“God, Draco,” whispered Harry, feeling his pants tighten beneath them.

Draco smiled against his skin, separating and coming back to kiss him once more on the lips. Simultaneously, his hands were shrugging off Harry’s shirt and dropping it behind them. He retracted slightly, gazing at him lovingly, eyes shifting from his face to his body.

Harry straightened, prepared to return the favor. He reached his hands to the hem of Draco’s sweater, lifting up and pulling it above his head. He wore nothing beneath the cottony fabric, and Harry gasped at the unexpected nakedness. They were both shirtless now, and the attraction was almost physically tangible.

Harry ran a single hand along the front of Draco’s chest, dropping lower to the abdomen, feeling every aspect of Draco’s pale skin. When he reached his belt, Harry tugged the boy forward. Draco shifted his hips so that he was straddled on top of him, still slouching in the chair. Harry moaned at the sudden contact and began unbuckling. 

Draco’s eyes were glued to Harry, a creature so beautiful that he was in awe that he was beneath him in this way. He silently observed Harry remove his belt and place it on the floor next to them. He didn’t stop watching as Harry unbuttoned his pants, then moved to unzip them...

Having gotten his pants down as much as possible in the awkwardness of the chair, Draco took another moment to kiss Harry deeply, romantically. It was everything Harry needed and wanted, all wrapped up into one blonde package that continued to kiss him fervently.

Harry’s hands found Draco’s waist, and he tugged slightly on his hip bones to thrust them forward. He could feel-mmm- Draco’s bulge rubbing against his own, diluted by a pool of fabric. He wanted, needed, more.

As if telepathically, Draco knew to stand up, extending a hand to help Harry from the chair. Here, standing, Draco took a moment to unfasten Harry’s pants and slide them down to mid-thigh. Harry reached down to match Draco’s to his own, but then continued on until Draco was left in nothing but the soft cotton of his shorts.

When he straightened, he felt his cock twitch at the sight of the angel before him. Almost completely barren, so raw, so open, just for him...

Draco slipped a thumb beneath each side of Harry’s jeans, sliding them down in one fluid motion. Harry kicked them off the rest of the way, urgency bypassing all other emotion.

Now, they were standing in front of the blazing fire, wearing nothing but underwear, wrapping themselves into the other’s arms.

Harry kissed Draco, once, then twice, before stopping to gesture toward the bed. “Do you want to maybe...”

Draco nodded abruptly, the message clearly understood. He crawled onto the bed, finding the middle of the mattress and leaning back onto his palms. His legs were stretched before him, and Harry placed a hand on Draco’s ankle as he pulled himself onto the bed. He then moved forward, inching on all fours until he was hovering over Draco’s body. Placing his palms on either side of Draco’s upper torso for support, he spread his legs and dipped downward so that their bodies were pressed together. The only thing remaining between their nether regions was two loose sheets of cotton, begging for removal. Harry immediately felt Draco’s erection through his boxers, and he adjusted his hips so that his own erection was pressed against it. Draco moaned softly, and Harry felt his prick swell even more at the sound.

Harry leaned forward swiftly, claiming Draco as his own by mashing his face to his. They continued in a similar fashion, kissing indefinitely, knowing what was coming ahead but enjoying every split second of bliss.

Before long, Harry’s shorts had found themselves thrown to the floor, and only Draco’s remained. Harry thrust himself into the fabric, pre-come staining the shorts in streaks.

Draco could hardly take it anymore. Harry was before him, naked and oh, so aroused, and Draco wanted him. All of him. Forever. Right now. Always.

Harry hovered over him, politely waiting for a signal to continue. Draco gave him the OK with a single nod, and Harry’s hands were immediately tugging the boxers off of him. They couldn’t be removed fast enough, it seemed, Harry’s hands desperate with desire. He threw them to the side ravenously and placed himself back on top of Draco, pausing to look into his eyes before descending fully upon him. Their abdomens were firmly compressed; breathing was shallow from chest to chest. And, Merlin, down low... down low their cocks were touching, rubbing gently against each other, pre-come from both sides coating and lubing the other.

Chills ran down Draco’s spine, causing his entire body to shudder beneath Harry. He smiled coyly in response, aware that Draco’s desires mirrored his own completely. Draco’s hands found Harry’s arse and cupped it gently, urging his pelvis forward until friction was evident between them. It arrived in pulses that were timed to Harry’s strokes, pleasure and passion and longing released with each touch.

Harry groaned, an audible liberation to the ecstasy developing within. Draco leaned forward, rising off of the mattress to match their lips. This kiss was soft, inviting but careful. It was a question, a proposal, and consent, all wrapped into one tender package. They pulled apart, and just to be sure, Harry gazed into him, eyes wide with concern.

“Do you want to do this?” He asked nervously, voice gentle as ever. He wanted this, needed this, but he needed Draco’s love more. He needed his OK.

“Yes. More than anything.” A seriousness settled over the two of them as Harry leaned forward pressing Draco back onto the pillow. Draco removed his glasses, placing them on the small table that seemed to appear next to the bed’s edge.

“Draco, I’ve- I’ve never done this before. Do you think we need...”

“I brought some, just in case.” Harry relaxed against him, relieved at Draco’s preparedness. He summoned the same draw string bag from earlier that day that was charmed with an undetectable extension.

He sat up slightly, reaching inside to retrieve a small jar with a silver lid. Handing it to Harry, he paused as their fingers brushed against each other. He brought his other hand to Harry’s hair, tugging him into a kiss deep with the decision to give it all.

They separated, panting but ready. Harry withdrew, opening the jar and spreading some of the goopy liquid upon himself.

“Maybe we should... practice. I don’t want to hurt you.” Draco nodded, and Harry rubbed some of the lubricant into his fingers. Innocently, he spread apart Draco’s arse cheeks and reached his index finger to the hole.

He hesitated, but continued onward as he inserted himself within Draco. He immediately shrieked, a shrill gasp of pleasure emanating the room. Gaining confidence, Harry pressed deeper until he was at knuckle. He knew the prostate was in there somewhere, and he brushed his finger anteriorly to find it. A loud moan escaped Draco’s lips, his eyes closed as he rested his head against the pillow comfortably. Harry decided to insert another finger, and then another, until Draco was writhing and looking at him with those big gray eyes and Merlin Harry needed him... he needed to be inside him...

He removed his hand and took hold of his own erection, glancing at Draco one more time before continuing. Draco’s eyes were still closed, but his lips formed a whispered word: “Please.”

Harry edged forward, placing his penis at the entrance to Draco’s body and pressed inward...

Being inside of Draco Malfoy was an experience that was almost indescribable. Pleasure rippled throughout Harry in waves, every nerve short circuiting and fraying and electrifying within him. He inched his pelvis forward until he was consumed by Draco fully, completely, wholly. Draco’s eyes were opened now, wide with delight and that feeling you get when you have someone you love inside of you. Harry leaned forward, bringing himself as close to Draco as he could manage, keeping his hips tilted so that he remained undoubtedly buried inside.

His breath caught, and he removed one hand from the mattress to stroke Draco’s hair from his forehead. “I love you,” He whispered, thrusting his pelvis forward slowly.

“Harry, I love you. I love you so much. I can’t live without you anymore.” Draco’s eyes were glassy with tears, but these were different. These weren’t the wet, uncomfortable sobs of Cho Chang; these were the emotional cues of a boy who’d never been loved until now. Here, right now, by Harry. That’s where he was meant to be. The thought had Harry tearing up as well, and he closed the gap between them with kisses, soft and sweet.

“Make love to me,” whispered Draco slowly, seriously, pleadingly. And Harry thrust himself forward, holding nothing back. His penis edged against that sweet spot, the one that made Draco yell in utter ecstasy, begging Harry for more. He pulled back, advanced, retracted, pushed, creating a friction that was too much to handle. His arms were shaking, weak with sexual gratification. His dick was harder than it’d ever been before, and every time he found himself against Draco’s prostate he almost came. He wanted to hold on, for Draco. He wanted him to finish first, or simultaneously at least. He needed to see those silver eyes dilate with climax, those pink lips swollen from snogging, biting down and wriggling his body in a state of constant happiness.

He wrapped his hand around Draco’s penis, matching his strokes with the movement of his hips. Long, lengthy, movements that had Draco tilting his head back. “Please, Harry, oh my god, don’t stop. Merlin, fuck, I’m going to finish!...”

Harry continued, reaching the brink himself in a few quick strokes. “Mmm,” he groaned, unable to handle much more at the sight of Draco’s mouth open and moaning. All at once, Draco spilled, liquid spreading across their stomachs. His breathing was heavy, eyes locked with Harry’s, face pink with exasperation. “Ah, Ah!” He called into the air, riding out the waves of his orgasm with Harry pressed directly against him.

A few moments later, Draco could feel Harry finishing inside of him, filling him to the brim, cascading on waves from the same ocean. Harry was inexplicably attractive as he came, body limp but eyes firm and unwavering from Draco’s. He felt Harry relax as he neared the end of his high, and then he felt the sensation of lips pressed against the spot right below his jaw bone.

“I love you, Draco. You are amazing, you know that?”

He turned his head so that their foreheads met, Harry’s slightly lower.

“I love you, too, Harry. You don’t know how special you are to me.”

And they laid like this for a while, Draco’s arms wrapped tentatively around Harry, whose head was resting in the crook of Draco’s neck. It was... heaven.

&&&

Harry was happy to find that Draco, too, had packed provisions to stay the night. After cleaning themselves with a few quick spells, the boys sat in front of the fire, side by side, perched upon the velvet of the rug. Draco’s arm was draped around Harry, hand resting upon his right shoulder comfortably.

The only clothes they’d bothered to dress themselves with were pajama bottoms, coincidentally the color of their houses. Draco discovered playfully that he wore the same waist size as his mate; after stealing the pants from Harry, he sported the Gryffindor red proudly.

“I think you may be a Gryffindor at heart, you know,” Harry teased, and laughed at Draco’s grimace.

“Please, Potter. Even if my future husband IS a Gryffindor, I’ll always be a snake.”

Harry grabbed his wand, conjuring a couple mugs of hot cocoa. Taking one, Draco started.

“This has marshmallows.” He stated, eyes wide, glancing Harry up and down as if he was about to cry.

“Of course it does. I love marshmallows.” Harry froze, concern spreading dimly across his expression. “Oh no, do you not like them!?”

“No, no, I love them! It’s just... I haven’t had them since I was a kid.”

“Oh.” Harry visibly relaxed. Draco brought the mug to his face with both hands, sipping slowly. His lips crept into a smile at the taste of the frothy beverage mixed with the sweet flavor of the marshmallows.

“My mother used to make this for me. It tasted very similar. One day, she just stopped. I don’t know for sure if it was her, or the house elves, but it just stopped coming. And, I guess that’s about the time that I started questioning everything.” He brought the glass down, peering into Harry. “I never quite felt at home after that. Things started falling apart. And, I guess I just associate this,” He tapped on the mug, “with belonging.”

Harry set his mug down and took Draco’s face into both of his hands. It was funny how their childhoods were different and yet so very similar. The pain hidden within Draco’s words mirrored Harry’s own longing for his parents. He peered through Draco infinitely, finding himself lost in memory. That was when he took a dive deep, with no intention of coming back up for air.

“Draco,” he said with a comforting smile, “You are home now.”

&&&

When it came time to sleep, the two retreated to the four poster willingly. Harry crawled in first, followed by a yawning Draco that immediately snuggled up against him. The motion was so natural, Draco lying his head gently upon Harry’s open chest. It was if they’d been doing this for years. Draco slung his arm over Harry’s stomach, and, after removing his glasses, he placed his palm on the small of Draco’s back. Harry wasn’t sure what to expect, but a few moments later the sound of light snoring began to fill the room. He chuckled to himself, feeling weightless. Brushing his cheek along platinum hair, Harry drifted into a deep slumber. It was the best sleep he’d had in ages.


	14. It Turns Out Ron Doesn’t Ship Drarry Either...Yet, Anyway

The next morning was spent leisurely getting ready for the day and heading separately to breakfast. Draco had awoken in the exact same position he’d drifted off in, and it was nice to peer up at a still-sleeping Harry. Everything in the world had seemed to finally find its place. In the Room of Requirement, he and Harry had found their own tiny piece of heaven, and it was its own challenge to have to leave it.

When the time did come, they separated with a kiss, and then another, and a promise to do this again as soon as possible. There was an exchange of “I love you’s” and exceptionally wide grins that reflected just how happy they had become. Draco left first, and then Harry with the invisibility cloak, you know, just in case.

They arrived at breakfast separately, with just enough time in between to remain inconspicuous. To everyone, that is, except Hermione, who was eating alone at the far end of the Gryffindor table.

“Hermione,” Harry sat across from her with a wide smile. She immediately looked up from her breakfast to greet him and grinned shyly.

“How was your night?” She spoke lowly, out of earshot for the rest of the House.

Harry sighed happily, sparing Hermione the details. “Amazing.”

He glanced at her rosy cheeks and accepting nod, then noticed her solitude. “Where’s Ron?”

“Sleeping, I guess. I haven’t seen him all morning.”

“Hm.” He pondered the thought of Ron’s absence before deciding that the bloke had probably just stayed up a bit too late. Moving forward, he took a bite of his toast.

&&&

Draco noticed that the Weasel was missing from his normal post with the trio that morning. He normally would’ve brushed it off, had he noticed at all, but for some reason the absence struck him as odd. There was a small, subtle knot in the pit of his stomach, and he wasn’t sure why. Swallowing his oats, he vowed to himself to see the situation through. He seemed more sensitive than ever to Harry’s needs, and there was definitely something awry. He made small talk with Nott to pass the time, keeping a keen eye on his partner all the while.

&&&

After breakfast, Harry headed back to the common room to catch up on some homework before class Monday. Hermione followed suit, inches behind him as they entered the portrait hole. Slouched in one of the chairs before them was Ron, elbow propped on the arm rest and supporting his face, which was rested uncomfortably against his palm. He had a sour air about him, an almost bitter expression plastered between freckles.

“Ron?” Harry questioned, stepping forward cautiously. He didn’t bat an eye, staring ahead aimlessly. He shared a worried glance with Hermione before coming closer. “Are you ok?”

Ron’s eyes flickered to meet Harry’s before he abruptly sat up. Harry jumped at the sudden movement.

“Where were you last night?” He interrogated, brow furrowed and ginger face reddening.

“I was... out, Ron. I thought we’d talked about this.” Harry put both hands up as if to call for truce.

“I know. But I’ve been thinking. And it’s kind of a slap in my face that you won’t tell me. When you didn’t come in last night, I was worried. I mean the bloody dark lord is after your arse, and here you are disappearing and not even caring about your friends!” His voice had risen, an expression of hurt crossing his features that was quickly replaced by ire.

“Ron, I’m sorry. I didn’t think-“

“I know you didn’t! The only person you thought about was yourself and your own desire to get shagged!”

There was a dead silence, the air filled with pain-causing tension. Harry’s mouth was agape, horribly surprised that his friend would- could- stoop so low. Coming to his senses, shock dissolved rapidly into anger.

“First of all, it’s not even like that! You have no idea how I feel about... them!” Luckily, there wasn’t a soul in the common room. Harry found his own voice booming, confrontation blooming between them.

“I know that you care about her more than you care about us! Tell him, Hermione! Tell him he’s in the wrong!”

Hermione’s eyes widened, unexpectedly dragged into the argument. “Ronald! This isn’t fair! For your information, I happen to give Harry my support on this one!”

Ron stood angrily. “You too!? What is wrong with you guys lately? That’s it. Harry, if you don’t tell me who you’re seeing, we’re done.”

“Ron!” Piped Hermione, “Don’t do this to him. This isn’t fair of you!”

“What happened to you waiting until I was ready to tell? What happened to you being understanding, Ron? It was just yesterday, for Merlin’s sake!” Harry gritted his teeth, blood pumping through his veins almost audibly.

“Yeah, well I changed my mind! I’ve had some time to think, and that’s my final answer. Tell me, or I’ll assume you don’t give a rat’s arse about me.”

“Ron, please!” Hermione was very involved now, begging her friend to see reason. She knew he had the ability to not be so bigoted, and it pained her to see him flush his friendship away. She didn’t want to be torn between them, but it always ended up that way. She sighed, tears surfacing.

“I can’t tell you, Ron. If I tell you, it’ll hurt them. Their life could be at stake. Please, Ron. I need you to understand.” Harry pleaded, longing. He never wanted this to come between their friendship. Guilt pelted his insides, wrenched his gut. Ron could be unreasonable at times, but he was Harry’s best friend, and the pain was all the same.

“What, so you’re telling me that Voldemort is after THEM too!? This is getting ridiculous, Harry. How am I supposed to believe you!?” They were definitely yelling now.

“Because he’s telling the truth.” The trio turned abruptly toward the owner of such a statement. No one had heard the portrait hole open. No one had heard the sound of the anonymous being behind them enter the room. And at the sight of such person, all three mouths dropped.

Before them stood Draco Malfoy, arms crossed in a slightly frustrated manor, brow lifted amusingly.

For a moment, no one spoke. There wasn’t as much of a twitch of a muscle for what felt like an endlessness. Ron was the first to break the silence.

“How the fuck did he get in here?”

Hermione and Harry remained too shocked to move and lacked the explanation that Ron demanded.

“Please, Weasley. I know where your common room is. Plus, it turns out the Fat Lady doesn’t mind helping a Slytherin in if it’s for a good cause.”

Ron’s face had morphed from red to purple. He tried to form words but stumbled over his own anger. His next phrase was literally spat much more than intended.

“So what the FUCK are you doing here?”

“Calm down, Ron.” Harry started at the sound of Draco referring to him by first name. Hermione remained frozen.

“Don’t tell me to CALM DOWN, MALFOY! Harry and I were just having an important conversation before you broke into our common room!”

Draco rolled his eyes at Ron’s ignorance and unfolded his arms. He used his hands to demonstrate his statement, palms supinated in the air with annoyance. “That’s WHY I’m here, Ron.”

Ron glanced back and forth from Malfoy to Potter rapidly, forming conclusions in his mind.

“So, YOU know who he’s been sneaking off with, too!? YOU, of all people, ferret!?” He turned to Harry, pointing a finger a few inches from his face. “If he knows, we are DONE.”

“Ron, stop!” Hermione shrieked. “Draco is trying to tell you something! Why don’t you listen?” She always was the voice of reason, and Harry was thankful for her presence.

“What is it, Malfoy?” His voice was almost poisonous. Draco stepped closer to Ron, confrontation at its finest.

“I am the reason he hasn’t told you.” Ron looked him up and down, unwavering.

“So what are you blackmailing him or something? I swear, Malfoy, I will HEX you!” Ron pulled out his wand, pointing it at Malfoy’s chest. Harry called out, but Draco didn’t move an inch.

“THIS is why he hasn’t told you. In addition to my life being at stake, and all. Just LOOK at how you’re reacting. And you haven’t even figured it out yet!”

“Figured what out!?” He pushed his wand into Malfoy’s chest, bruising skin beneath cotton.

“That it’s me!” Draco had a way of passionately getting his point across, of splitting any theory you’d been attempting to prove, without even raising his voice.

“Draco, no!” What was he doing? Harry was having a hard time coping with the present moment. Draco wasn’t ready to tell anyone, and who knew how Ron was going to handle this? What had changed? And how had he known to come to Harry’s rescue?

Flashbacks ran through his mind of dreams coated in darkness, of Draco arriving at precisely the right moment to save him from his father. Little had changed in this reality, and Harry was taken aback by the sudden revelation.

“That what’s you?” Ron lowered his wand, staring at Draco stupidly.

“I’m in love with your best friend. There, I said it. If you love Harry even a fraction of what I do, if he really is a brother to you, than you’ll be a bit more understanding.”

Ron cowered slightly, the words finally coming to light. Draco held his ground, strong in all defense, strong for Harry.

“I, wha, you, and, you, and... him?” He turned to Harry, who nodded solemnly. Ron turned around, still processing. He paced a bit before taking a seat in the chair behind him.

“And you’re okay with this?” He asked Hermione confusedly. She took a deep inspiration before answering.

“Yes. There’s a lot at stake, for both of them. But... yes. They have my support.” She turned to Draco, who smiled weakly at her grace.

“What in the bloody hell is happening!? Is the world ending? Hermione! Is the world ending?” Ron seemed to be calming down, anger melting to confusion and an unwillingness to believe what was before him.

“Draco,” Harry spoke softly, “What made you change your mind?”

“I don’t care anymore, Harry. After last night, I... you’re worth it to me. At all costs.”

Harry thought that he was going to melt right then and there, transformed into a pile of useless goo that would seep throughout the floor boards.

“Plus,” Draco added, “I had a feeling that this one was getting close to throwing away your friendship over me. I know how much you care about him. I couldn’t let that happen.” At this, Ron’s blue eyes met Draco’s face.

“You, you’re really together?” Ron asked again, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Ronald! It’s nice when two people express their feelings for each other, isn’t it? When they aren’t afraid to make that connection?”

Ron gazed at her, almost knowingly, shock degrading his comprehension.

“But I thought he was a Death Eater?”

“I told you, Ron. I was wrong about that.” Harry shifted closer to Draco, taking his hand.

“So, What? What if he turns you in to Voldemort? Will you want to shag him then, Harry?”

“You ignorant, pretentious, little-“ Draco stepped forward, prepared to let no one and nothing insult Harry. Harry put his hand in front of Draco, stopping him from edging forward.

“He won’t,” was all he replied with, a simple and confident answer.

Ron looked at the wall, then back at the couple before him. “Im your best mate! I can’t believe I didn’t even... I didn’t even know you were gay! You could’ve come and talked to me. You didn’t have to go running to him.” His words were like a particularly sharp knife, twisting its way through Harry’s stomach.

“I didn’t go ‘running to him,’ Ron,” Harry started, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t even know, or I would have told you. I know this is a huge shock to you. But there’s nothing I can do to change this. So... you’re either with me, or you’re not.”

Hermione’s gasp was the only audible break to the silence that ensued. Draco wrapped a protective arm around Harry’s waist, and Ron’s disgusted expression gave him away.

“I just, I can’t handle this right now, Harry. I need time to think.” Ron dramatically rose and made his exit to the dormitory without another glance in their direction.

“That went better than it could have,” observed Hermione after Ron was away. “He hasn’t completely rejected the idea. He just needs to mull it over. Give him a few days.” She placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder and gave Draco a sympathetic look before crossing the room to a table in the far corner, where she began to pull out her study materials.

“I need to study, too,” Draco commented. “Care to join me in the library?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll get my things.” Without a glance in Ron’s direction, Harry rushed into the dormitory for his book bag. The red head was lying on his bed, eating a chocolate frog and staring at his newest Quidditch poster along the wall next to him.

Everything was the same, and yet so different. Ron knew at the deepest, most cavernous part of his being that Harry was his best friend and that ultimately he wouldn’t allow anything to destroy that friendship. Even if that thing was the Malfoy ferret himself. Ron just wasn’t sure exactly where down the line he’d lost Harry. He thought he knew him so well, so much that he’d be willing to bet on it. (Which says a lot, because he didn’t carry much on him these days.) Now, he was going downstairs to spend time with sodding Malfoy and to probably kiss him and- bleh- Ron didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to preserve his world, the one in which he and Harry split the trolley treats on the train. The one in which they’d stolen the Ford Anglia and almost been expelled for their rash stupidity. The world in which it was Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and not even the Dark Lord himself could defeat them. And now, here was Draco, splitting them down the middle in a line so jagged that Ron wasn’t sure it would fix.

Harry closed the door behind him after grabbing his books, and Ron realized just how jealous of Harry’s secret lover he’d become. There were never any untold things between them, until now. And now that the truth was out there- really, blatantly out there- there was no reducing their world back to three. Part of the reason he’d waited so long to tell Hermione that he was crazy about her was his fear of breaking up the group. And here Harry was, shagging Malfoy. The thought made him sick to his stomach. It was utterly putrid, what they were doing, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to accept it. He sighed ruefully before placing his pillow over his face. Eventually, he’d have to.

But for now, he’d settle for a nap.


	15. Letters From Lucius Malfoy

The next few days consisted of a remarkably quiet Ron mulling about, weathering the flood of daily amenities and tasks. He didn’t change his routine much, sitting in the same place for meals across from Harry and walking with him to the common room at other times. He was there, but he was... silent.

Harry didn’t question it, just continued right along Ron, hoping his dedication would prove worthy of acceptance. In between Ron’s angst and Hermione’s kindness, Harry and Draco were better than ever.

They had been sneaking glances across the Great Hall one evening, smiling subtly and laughing quietly at their own personal inside jokes. Blaise was next to Draco, going on about his most recent plan to get drunk one of the following weekends, and Pansy sat quietly across from him. She was completely and utterly absorbed in her latest divination project and refused to be interrupted. It was at this time that Draco noticed a familiar owl heading his way, flapping mercilessly with a letter gripped tightly in its talons.

His stomach dropped, ligaments loosely stretching and allowing gravity to take hold of his insides. The bird came closer, closer, and Draco thought he was going to puke as the Malfoy owl dropped a message onto his lap.

He retrieved the letter and placed it in his robe pocket, swallowing audibly. The last few weeks had been miraculously surreal. Draco had allowed himself to forget, to pretend that this was a love story with a happy ending. To enjoy every second in Potter’s presence, to play that they weren’t stuck at the forefront of a war. The Malfoy family wax seal enclosing the letter anchored him to solid ground. This was far from over.

Across the room, Harry could tell something was horribly wrong. The look on Malfoy’s face gave everything away; there was only one person whom the letter dropped upon him could be written from. The question was, what the hell was going to happen next.

&&&

Draco braved the hesitance within and pried open the letter. He was alone, locked within an empty stall in the Slytherin lavatory. Nervousness had overtaken since the letter had befallen him just an hour earlier. He unfolded the parchment, heartbeat wild and a small sweat beading across his forehead. Focusing his eyes, he began to read:

Draco,

I have an important message for you regarding the subject of our last letter. I need to speak with you as soon as is feasible. Arrive at the fire place in your common room tonight at midnight, and we will talk.

The letter lacked a signature, but he knew exactly who he’d be facing in a few hours. He slouched against the wall of the stall, casting a quick Incendio upon the letter before succumbing to the doubt that welled from within. What a fool he had been, dragging Harry into the middle of this. They were damned from the start, wilted before they’d been given a chance to bloom.

He sighed, sliding down until he hit ground. Knees folded in front of him, he pounded his head against the stall a few times, trying to figure out what in the fuck to do. He’d cried more times in the past couple of months than he had quite possibly in his entire life, but that didn’t stop him from letting the tears flow freely down his cheeks. He was alone at least; he didn’t want Harry to see him like this. Not any more than he already had, anyway; Draco needed to be strong for him. No matter what hardships Draco faced, it was Harry that the Dark Lord wanted dead. It was Harry who had the right to be afraid, not Draco. He was merely a pawn in Voldemort’s plan, a disposable piece that was moving closer to destruction.

But not anymore. Draco took a sharp breath in, remembering what the fuck he was doing here. He was here, at Hogwarts, where just some weeks ago he’d sought Dumbledore’s protection. He thought about his childhood, memories blurring like water colors. Scenes of abuse and loneliness, of begging for attention, of never quite being good enough. Curses thrown his way if he made one wrong move. He thought of Lucius Malfoy, smirking down at him while Draco’s world lit fire. And all at once, his grief transformed into something much more useful: rage.

He was here because he was done taking orders. He remained under Dumbledore’s loyalty because he refused to be told who to follow. He pushed forward every day with the comfort of knowing he was Harry’s. Draco Malfoy was no Death Eater; Draco Malfoy was no pawn. Not anymore.

Balling his hands to fists, his brow narrowed as he contemplated his next move. He would speak with Lucius Malfoy, Alright. But he would not be played. Drying his tears, Draco rose to his feet. A new motivation sparked within him, internal wiring frayed with vengeance. He had been sorted into Slytherin for a reason, and he intended on living up to his shrewd reputation. Something inside of Draco Malfoy had been born again, carcass lying still within that bathroom stall. Without hesitation, he strode from the room determinedly.

&&&

Harry was worried. He’d seen Draco disappear immediately after finishing his dinner, and he knew from the way he hurriedly escaped that something was very wrong. Alas, he had no way of confirming this aside from somehow stalking into the Slytherin lair to ask him personally. Hedwig was out of the question; she’d be immediately recognized, and the Owlery was closed at this hour.

He tried to brain storm, pulling ideas from the depths of his psyche to no avail. He would’ve given just about anything to voice his concerns to Ron, but the lad was still harboring his emotions silently.

And so he sat in the common room, biding his time until his eyelids felt heavy. Before bed, he checked the Marauders map to see Draco sitting across from Blaise in their own common room. With a sigh of relief, he at least could rest assured that Draco was having somewhat of a normal night.

&&&

Midnight approached slowly. As the minutes ticked closer, Draco sat with his hands folded on the black leather surface of the couch nearest the fire. He was slightly nervous, but it didn’t show. His Malfoy stoicism was shining brightly, a beacon in his defense. The common room was deserted, and a part of him wished it hadn’t been. If Lucius Malfoy even sensed a pair of listening ears, he’d bail. Alas, Draco was alone.

At the strike of midnight, the golden flames of the fire morphed into a neon lime green. Draco started, but recovered quickly. He knew this was coming; he was expecting this. He had to stay focused.

The flames roared violently, prefacing who was to come. Draco clenched his eyes shut, shifting all of his energy to compose himself. When eyes of steel opened, the face of Lucius Malfoy had formed from the open flames.

“Draco.” His voice was perfectly preserved, a cold and loveless greeting that made his son’s skin crawl.

“Yes, father. I’m here.” Draco approached the fire, standing straight, rigid.

“The Dark Lord has decided that waiting until you return after the winter holiday is wasting time that is precious. You will kill Dumbledore before the end of this term.”

Draco nodded.

“I assume your plans are coming along just fine then?” The question was spat. The man didn’t even try to hide his doubt in the boy.

“Yes. Everything is going as intended. The new time line should be without problem.” Draco kept his face hard, careful not to give emotion away.

“Would you care to explain exactly what these plans are?” Lucius raised an eyebrow, daring.

“I have befriended the Potter boy. I am working on a cursed object spell. I plan to have Potter deliver the object to Dumbledore himself. The poison should take effect immediately, at which point I will have followed and can capture Potter for you.” His throat caught slightly, but he pressed onward. “This plan is without flaw. You have my word.”

“I see. And is Severus aware of this plan?” Draco stumbled momentarily.

“No. I don’t want him involved. This is my job, not his.”

“And how do you expect yourself not to fall into one of Potter’s traps? Or even one set by Dumbledore himself?”

Draco hadn’t been expecting this question. “Sir?”

“You know that Harry Potter is our enemy. He is loyal to Dumbledore only. I highly doubt in the short time you’ve spent with him that he has any loyalty to you. Dumbledore isn’t daft. Did you ever stop to think that he might suspect something of this ‘friendship’ you share with Potter?”

Draco froze. He hadn’t had enough time to prepare for this.

“He suspects nothing, Lucius.” Draco pivoted to see his head of house approaching from the shadows.

“I thought you refused to inform our dear friend of your inner workings, Draco?” Lucius glared suspiciously in his direction.

“He hasn’t shared anything with me. But I’ve been keeping a close watch, Lucius. The boy will do fine. What is our time line now?”

“The Dark Lord spoke earlier today. If Dumbledore isn’t befallen in two weeks, he has something else in mind.”  
For a fleeting moment, Draco swore he saw fear cross his father’s face.

“Draco will not let our alliance down. I will see to it.” The drawl of Professor Snape was comforting. 

“You’d better not. I fear for you if you fail.” Lucius Malfoy’s voice held no sympathy or worry for the well being of his son. Draco gulped.

“I won’t.”

The flames died, burning back to the color of the sunset. Lucius Malfoy was gone.

“How did you know?” Draco stuttered quietly, processing all of the information from the past few minutes.

“My Dark Mark was signaled earlier. I am not...required to attend such meetings due to my post here. With his next plan in action, one could only presume that you would be the subject of discussion.”

Draco drew in a deep breath. “What happens when Dumbledore isn’t dead in two weeks?”

Snape’s eyes were black, beady, and full of hate when he answered: “We fight.”


	16. Albus Dumbledore & The Mysterious Stone

The crisp, chilled air of fall blanketed the castle in the following days. It was only November, but Draco could sense winter coming early. He wrapped his scarf around himself tightly as he entered the courtyard. A few meters ahead was Harry who was clearly trying to cram in some studying before his next class. Draco approached him anyway.

“Harry.” Draco smiled wryly, taking a seat next to the boy.

“Draco,” Harry took a moment to slide his hand beneath the billowing fabric of their robes to hold his hand. “How are you doing today, love?”

“I’m making it. Every day that gets closer I feel better, believe it or not.”

“I can understand that.” Harry nodded, letting the thought sink in.

“Of course you would. You’ve already faced him twice.” Draco pushed Harry playfully, making light of the darkest situations. The truth was, they were both worried. It had already been a few days since Draco’s meeting with his father, and time was ticking.

It was obvious what was going to happen. Draco couldn’t, wouldn’t kill Dumbledore. Their only choice at this point was resistance. Harry had almost become used to the terrorizing feeling that was waiting on Voldemort to strike. Draco, however, was new at this.

“What are you studying?” Draco peered over Harry’s open text book, transfiguration diagrams dotted about the pages. “Oh. McGonagall’s. That’s some complicated wandwork.”

Harry shut his book abruptly, turning his body to face Draco’s. His cheeks were tinged pink from the bite of the wind, Gryffindor scarf bundled around his neck.  
“I can’t just do small talk with you, Draco. Two weeks. That’s all we’ve been given, and we have no plan. I will fight for you until the end. But I can’t afford to lose you, Draco. We have to figure out what we’re going to do.”

Draco’s gaze was solid against Harry’s. “I know.” His face was calm and structured, but there was a hint of fear in those gray irises that only Harry could sense.

“I love you, Draco. I won’t let him be the end of us.” Harry’s hand squeezed his own beneath their robes.

“I love you, as well. Nothing is going to change that. Especially Voldemort.”

Harry smirked slightly. “Using his name now?”

“Eh. Someone very wise once said ‘Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.’ Sounds like pretty good advice, to me.” Harry smiled immediately, knowing exactly whom he’d quoted.

“Speaking of which,” Harry replied. He waved to Hermione, who was approaching them from across the court yard. She appeared to have some type of parchment in hand, a serious expression hidden beneath the wild bushiness of her mane.

“Harry, Draco,” she greeted, sitting some of her books down next to them. “I’m so glad I found you here. I just came back from Dumbledore’s office. He asked me to give this to you both.”

She handed over the parchment, which was clearly addressed to both “Mr. Potter” and “Mr. Malfoy.” Glancing at each other curiously, Harry began to unfold the message. In the elegant hand of Albus Dumbledore were the words: “Please come to my office after each of your last classes. Arrive together.”

“Do you think that Dumbledore has a plan for what’s ahead?” Asked Hermione, who’d been filled in on the situation by both Harry and Draco the day after Lucius’s meet. Harry shrugged.

“He always seems to pull through when it counts. I’m sure he has everything taken care of,” he stated, confidence in the head master unwavering.

Draco nodded at them both. “I sure hope so.”

&&&

The morning after the Death Eater meet found Severus Snape in the head master’s office, explaining everything.

“What do you suppose we do, Albus? He’s given the boy two weeks to find you dead. We both know that isn’t going to happen.”

“Hmm.” Dumbledore stroked his beard, lost in thought. “I wonder what has caused him to shorten the time line as such?”

“I am unaware of this much. Lucius Malfoy had doubts in Draco, we know that. But he wouldn’t dare tell the Dark Lord that lest he wanted to lose his own standing among the Death Eaters.”

“This must be the decision of Tom himself. Tired of seeing me breathe, I daresay. Or tired of waiting on the boy to do what he longs to do himself.” He fingered one of the gadgets upon his desk, lost in thought.

“Draco is safe here. My suspicion is that they will try to lure him from the castle. I doubt that they could penetrate our warding, so he will have to leave for their punishment to work.” Severus leaned forward, resting his hands on the head master’s desk.

“And how do you suppose they will try to lure him from us?” Dumbledore gazed at him from beneath half-moon spectacles.

“Potter. All they’d have to do is convince Potter that his precious friends are in danger and he’d leave. And unfortunately... Draco would follow.”

“You have a point, Severus. But that only holds true if they cannot penetrate the warding.”

“It has held this long, Albus. Even apparition isn’t possible onto the grounds.” Severus Snape pulled out his wand, flicking it in the direction of the window in a test to see if any holes had deteriorated the layer of magic surrounding the castle.

“Warding is intact.” He confirmed, placing his wand back into his robes.

Albus rested his chin upon his right palm, gazing out of the window Snape had pointed toward.

“In any case, it seems that my intentions for both Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter require much faster action than I had originally planned on giving. I will need to push everything forward soon.”

Professor Snape nodded, unsure of the head master’s intentions but understanding the need for haste. “And sir?” He questioned, snapping Dumbledore from his daze. “What do you suppose we do when our time runs out?”

“Well, like you told the boy, Severus.” Dumbledore leaned forward, adjusting his spectacles. “We fight.”

&&&

“Come in, come in!” The head master’s address echoed whimsically throughout the office. Harry and Draco ascended the last of the steps, approaching Dumbledore with a thousand questions in mind.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Harry greeted, intertwining his and Draco’s fingers beneath their robes.

“Ah, Yes! Good afternoon, boys. Would you like to take a seat?” Dumbledore smiled, no detail unnoticed. Draco’s hand remained woven with Harry’s as they moved into both chairs.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve summoned you here today.” The old wizard paused, scanning over the boys thoughtfully. Draco nodded subtly.

“I have something for you,” he continued with that air of omnipotence that was trademark of Albus Dumbledore. He retrieved a small box from the pocket of his robe and placed it upon the desk, sliding it forward with a single finger.

“I think it wise that Harry hold onto this for now, although my intent is that you both protect it at all costs.”

“What is it Professor?” Harry questioned curiously, eyeing the black velvet of the box before him.

“Go on, you can open it. It belongs to you now.” Dumbledore nodded encouragingly.

Harry took the box into his hands, softly prying it open. Inside was what appeared to be a stone, ruby-like in appearance, a soft crimson reflecting off of its many surfaces. It was beautiful, and Harry was captivated. Draco peered curiously from the side, deducing and concluding what this gem could possibly be.

“What is it, sir?” Draco braved the question, having come up empty on his own.

“Ah, but what isn’t it!” Dumbledore smiled, a riddle himself in some respect. “I can tell you what it isn’t. It is no longer a piece of what keeps Tom Riddle alive.”

Draco’s brow furrowed curiously, wondering what in the bloody hell Dumbledore was speaking about.

“But what IS it?” He continued, “In due time you will know. I will leave the explanation for your own finding, or perhaps for another time. But I do advise that you protect it at all costs. And whatever you do, do not let it fall into the wrong hands.”

Harry closed the box and placed the stone into his pocket. “Thank you, sir. We’ll take great care of this.”

“I have no doubt that you both will take excellent care to it. If something is to ever happen to Mr. Potter, I do expect you to take full responsibility of this stone, Draco.

Furthermore, you should both know that this stone holds great power. I advise that you do not use it for its intended purpose unless absolutely necessary.”

“And what is its purpose, sir?” Draco was perched on the edge of his seat, intently listening to the head master’s every word.

“In time, Draco. For the present moment, the less you know about this stone’s power, the better you will be able to protect it.” There was a seriousness in Dumbledore’s voice that Draco had never heard before. Between his lines were hidden secrets, things that were meant to be discovered in private. Draco noted silently that even the most skilled Legilimens would find that Albus Dumbledore’s mind was a brick wall.

Draco said nothing but nodded once in understanding. “Thank you, sir,” he confirmed, but his mind was already whooshing forword to his next question.

“Headmaster,” Draco began cautiously, “Professor Snape told me that he informed you of my father’s recent proclamation.”

“Ah, yes. He did. There is no reason to worry, my dear boys. When the time comes, we will handle Tom Riddle and anyone he throws our way.” Dumbledore had a way of soothing the soul, of quelling your fears with the bat of an eye. It was no wonder he had come into such power; the only known wizard to defeat Grindelwald himself. And yet, his humility was charming and lovable. Draco wasn’t used to power being handled so gracefully.

“Will we prepare for battle?” Harry asked, reflecting on memories of the DA from the previous term.

“I hope that circumstances will not require such tactics. But, if things are to result in such a manner, then yes. We will fight.”

Draco’s silver eyes pierced the icy blue of Albus Dumbledore’s, and there was an intimate understanding that went without words. Yes, they would fight. Yes, things were about to get bloody and difficult. And, no, life would never be the same.  
He felt Harry reach underneath to give his hand another squeeze.

Dumbledore smiled gleefully, body language alone enough to change the subject. “It warms my insides to see you two together. Life is too short to miss out on such a beautiful experience as is love.”

Albus was the only being in the room whose face hadn’t flushed a deep scarlett. The silence was overwhelming, and Harry let out a nervous giggle while fidgeting with the back of his neck. Draco remained solemn, earnest.

“Thank you, sir. I feel the same.” Harry turned to Draco, shocked at the boy’s words. Had he just admitted this... to Dumbledore? Things were getting woozy on his side of the room. Surprisingly, both Draco and the head master chuckled.

“I’m in love with you, Harry. We know it. Professor Dumbledore is obviously aware of our feelings. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Draco visibly took both of Harry’s hands into his own, smiling that favorite smile that drove him insane.

“We’re safe here, Harry. Remember, this is home.” And Harry’s cheeks turned just a shade darker before he leaned in to touch his forehead to Draco’s.

A warm and fuzzy moment passed, eyelids fluttered shut, tips of noses barely brushing. Harry was aware of Dumbledore’s presence but didn’t hesitate to claim Draco as his own. Something within the seed of his gut told him that the headmaster could quite possibly be their biggest supporter. Harry felt Draco’s head tilt forward, and he expected to sense the soft, pink lips pressed against his. Just as he opened his mouth to reciprocate, he heard an exceptionally deep throated cough from directly behind them.

“Ah, Severus! So glad to see that you were able to come and join us.” Harry started, jumping backward in a panic. Heaving, Harry noticed the professor’s expression: a grimace that was a cross between “what the bloody fuck” and “oh my god, why me, not again.” Draco let out a chortle, matched by Harry’s own exasperated laugh. As startled as he was, Snape’s face was so fucking priceless that he found himself cackling uncontrollably alongside Draco. It was a moment he longed to share with Ron, and he wondered if he’d get to one day; when, or if, he changed his mind.

“Oh, shut it, you two.” Snape crossed to Dumbledore’s desk, composing himself whilst he walked. Dumbledore winked knowingly in their direction.

“If you will excuse us, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. I believe everything we’ve discussed is in order?”

“Yes, sir.” The boys simultaneously rose from their respective seats and headed for the exit.

The entire walk back, Harry’s hand never left the tiny box within his pocket.

&&&

“I have spoken with the staff, Albus. They are prepared for what is to come.”

Severus Snape took a seat in front of the head master, the sound of Draco and Harry’s giggling still echoing against the stone walls. He sighed, perking up at the sound of the gargoyle sliding back into place.

“For what might come, Severus. We cannot predict the advances of Tom Riddle, though we may try. Did you mention anything about the boy?”

“I left Draco’s...innocence, out of the explanation. I only mentioned that the Dark Lord wants you dead within the next couple of weeks. That is his main motivation, after all.”

“I see. Well, the truth will come to light. It always does. It seems to appear however that when his betrayal of the dark side becomes known, he will have plenty of allies to stand alongside him. And with that, there is hope.”


	17. Dumbledore’s Army

“Hermione, do you still have control over the galleons from last year? For the DA meetings?” Harry approached her determinedly, thoughts and ideas brewing.

“Yes, I believe I do. What for? Are you thinking about reuniting the group?” Her eyes twinkled; Hermione loved Dumbledore’s Army. Harry nodded, taking a seat next to her at the common room table she was using to study.

“Yes. And soon. It’s the best plan we’ve got for now.” Hermione nodded once, understanding.

“I’ll summon them tonight, so that we can meet tomorrow.”

Harry gave her a hug around the neck. “You’re the best, ‘Mione. We wouldn’t make it without you.” Hermione smiled humbly before Harry ascended the stairs to the boy’s dormitory.

Across the room, Ron’s eyes narrowed jealously.

&&&

“Harry, is it true!?” An overzealous and boisterous Neville almost knocked them both over. He had spotted Harry from across the corridor, no doubt in between classes, but couldn’t contain the excitement within. Straightening, he whispered: “Tonight at 6?” To which Harry responded with a quick nod.

“I can’t believe it!” He grinned, an overwhelmingly happy Neville. On the other side of the passage, Hannah began to approach. She gave a small, modest wave to Harry before catching the attention of Neville. “I guess I’d better be going now. We will both be there.” He smiled reassuringly before skipping across the hall to greet her. Harry watched Neville peck her on the cheek excitedly, Hannah’s cheeks tinted a rosy pink. They were a goofy bunch, Neville’s clumsy disposition complimented by Hannah’s exceptionally sweet one. Harry’s thoughts immediately shifted to Draco. How did they compliment each other?

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” he felt himself relax at the mere sound of Draco’s voice behind him. Closer, a whisper met his ear: “I meant that literally.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the crude humor of his mate before spinning to face him. “You fucking prat. Come on, we’ll miss potions.” He grinned facetiously, matching Draco’s pompous smirk before heading in the opposite direction and inconspicuously taking his hand. Life had changed so much already, and, to be truthful, Harry wasn’t ready to see it change again. He liked it here, roaming the halls of Hogwarts with Draco. He liked it just fine.

&&&

That evening would find Harry and Draco tucked beneath the invisibility cloak and heading to the 7th floor. They were the first to arrive to the Room of Requirement, which appeared very different than it had the last time they were there together.

Harry tried to make sure that the Room had all of the necessary provisions for defense training while Draco attempted to flippantly convince him of what they should actually be doing.

Six o’clock brought Hannah and Neville, followed by Hermione and an unpleasant Ron. She shot them a look of apology before hugging each of them.

Hannah and Neville didn’t question Draco’s presence. Something about the Hufflepuff’s inherent good nature presumed Draco to be innocent from the get-go. And, if Harry trusted him, well then by golly, so would Neville.

There was an uncomfortable truce between Ron and the others, who spoke only when spoken to and refused to look at the Slytherin. He wouldn’t ripple any waves, but he also wouldn’t calm the tide. Hermione had dragged him there, reminding him that this was for Harry and for Dumbledore, not only for Draco. He crossed his arms impatiently as some of the others began to arrive.

Seamus and Dean were the next to enter. Apparently Neville wasn’t the only one who’d missed the meetings; Seamus greeted Harry by hug and several pats on the back. Dean eyed Draco suspiciously but made no comment. This was contrasted immensely by Seamus treating Draco like an old friend.

“Malfoy! Decided to come to the winner’s side, eh?” He chuckled lightly, extending a hand forward. Draco accepted the gesture, shaking it firmly. “Any friend of Harry’s is a friend of ours, mate.”

Draco beamed at the sudden acceptance. He felt grateful, almost unworthy of the kindness given to him by the Gryffindors. He was used to having a price to pay for such things, but he had a feeling that this time he wouldn’t have to.

Next to enter were Ginny and Luna, arriving hand in hand with giddy smiles plastered upon each face. Draco didn’t mean to stare, but something about them reminded him a little too much of Harry and himself. The thought left his mind as Luna approached him.

“Draco!” She greeted airily. “It’s nice to see you here. Are you a member of Dumbledore’s Army now?”

Draco nodded, again shocked by Luna’s pleasant attitude toward him.

“How delightful! Your aura is shining brightly, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Slytherin so pure.” She cocked her head, evaluating Draco in the odd, innocent way that was characteristic of Luna Lovegood. Pleased with her findings, she curved her lips into a smile so sweet that Ginny found herself instinctively gravitate to Luna’s side.

Draco’s suspicions were on the brink of conclusions when the door opened once more to reveal a couple of Hufflepuffs: Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan. Hannah waved excitedly, happy to be reunited with her own housemates.

“What is he doing here?” Ernie’s voice was the first negative statement to reach Draco thus far. Susan elbowed him curtly, displeased with manners uncharacteristic of their house.

“He’s here because he wants to be,” Harry answered firmly. “And he’s not going anywhere.”

Ernie raised both hands in a surrender. “No hard feelings. I’m just surprised, is all.”

Lavender and Parvati were the next to arrive, giggling and murmuring to each other as always. They made no vocalization of Draco’s presence but whispered feverishly in his direction.

Last to enter the room was a singular Cho Chang. This came as a surprise to Harry, who’d hardly expected her to arrive after their fall out last term.

“Hi, Harry.” She smiled shyly, and Draco unintentionally made a face. Cho didn’t seem to notice; she was too busy gazing affectionately at the Chosen One.

“Cho.” Harry acknowledged her presence but paid her no more attention. Draco grinned internally, smug at the lack of interest. He had never known himself to be the jealous type, but seeing Cho attempt to rekindle whatever feelings she’d had for Harry unleashed a protective rage that made him want to snog Harry right then and there.

They waited a moment for any others to arrive, but it appeared that this was going to be their final group.

“Okay, everyone. We’re all here because we have a common interest. We are Dumbledore’s Army, and we are all fighting for the same cause.” All eyes were on Harry. “With recent events, I feel that it is imperative now more than ever that we join.”

“Is it Voldemort, Harry?” Neville asked softly, a hint of worry tainting his words.

Harry inspired, glancing around the room. “Yes.”

There was an audible gasp from the direction of Lavender Brown, followed by a few hushed whispers.

“Voldemort and the Death Eaters want Professor Dumbledore dead. We don’t know exactly what they’re planning, but we know that if he has not been killed within the next few weeks that they will intervene.” There was more commotion amongst the group, confused faces and unanswered questions.

“But If they expect him to be killed... is there a Death Eater among us?” Ginny was sharp, drawing unspoken conclusions quickly. Eyes widened and hushed whispers turned into audible rabeling throughout the room.

“No. They only believe there is.” A silence fell across the room as they attempted to grasp the vagueness of his statement.

“It was me.” Draco cracked the quiet, causing a flurry of shocked looks in his direction. Harry turned to him, surprise evident in his expression. He hadn’t been expecting Draco to reveal anything self incriminating.

He drew in a breath and continued. “My father is a Death Eater. You all know that. I was chosen by Lord Voldemort to carry out the murder of Albus Dumbledore. But I refuse to follow in their foot steps. I know I haven’t been on the best terms with some of you, especially in recent years. And for that, I genuinely apologize. But you must believe me when I tell you that I am no longer on their side. I hope that you can all forgive me and grant me a chance to prove myself. When I don’t give them what they want; when Dumbledore lives, I am prepared to fight with you.”

Nobody spoke, nobody moved. The words seemed an oddity coming from the lips of a Malfoy, and it took time for the room to process what hung in the air. Even Harry was silent. An eternity seemed to pass, and Draco began having his own doubts when the sound of Hannah’s hands pierced the quiet. It was slow at first, her hands brought together and apart in what appeared to be a clap.

Neville beamed proudly at the girl and joined her, followed by Bones, Lavender, and Parvati. Hermione ensued, and the rest of the room joined in one heap of applause. Harry turned to Draco, a wide grin spread across his face as he, too, joined in on the ovation.

Draco lowered his head humbly, thankful to be accepted among the Army. The only person who wasn’t in on the applause was Ron, who stood idly with a look of contempt. A pang of rejection hit Draco’s gut. Harry sensed this instantly and gave him a comforting pat between the shoulder blades.

“He’ll come around. I promise.” His voice was hushed against the lobe of his ear, and he felt an impeccable urge to hold him, to kiss him in front of the crowd. He wondered if they’d still be clapping.

The applause died out, and Harry turned to face them once more. “Alright. Now that we’re all on the same page, who’s ready to practice some dueling?”

Excited murmurs floated amongst the group as they split into pairs. Hermione and Ron were the first to demonstrate, their round ending soon after it began with Hermione’s “stupefy.” If Ron was sour before, he was downright bitter after having his arse handed to him by the girl he was crazy about. When he came to, Hermione was already above him with an extended hand. She pulled him into an embrace, and he felt, well, more than slightly better. For the first time that evening, his lips pulled into a smile.

Next were the Gryffindor girls, Parvati disarming Lavender. Luna surprisingly overtook Ginny with a “petrificus totalus,” and the redhead was more than impressed with her skills.

Neville was overthrown by a dainty Hannah, who calmly and quickly cast a binding spell.

Seamus and Dean’s match lasted longer than the others’, both putting up a legitimately good fight before Dean was able to disarm Seamus.

“Harry?” Cho wore the expression of a puppy dog, eyelashes batting flirtatiously. She of course lacked a partner after Marietta’s mistakes, and Draco couldn’t help but glare. Harry shrugged.

“Alright, Cho. Let’s duel.”

They met on opposite sides of the room, positioned for the start. As soon as Hermione gave the signal, Cho found her legs locked as Harry cast a silent “locomotor mortis.”

Draco couldn’t help but snigger at the immediate defeat. Cho was either completely daft or was playing the lost puppy card. As Harry reversed the spell and gave her a hand up, she shrugged shyly. “I guess I’ll just need to spend some extra time with you practicing.”

Draco leered, rolling his eyes. So she was the lost puppy. Harry didn’t respond, turning to canter back nonchalantly to Draco. Upon reaching him, he smirked coquettishly. “Care to give it a go?”

Draco lifted his chin coyly, readily accepting the challenge. “You know it.”

Everyone watched intently as they took their positions on opposite sides of the room.

“Scared, Potter?” Called Draco across the space between them, a sly smile on his lips.

Harry grinned at the memory, excitement bubbling within. “You wish.”

It was amazing that in just a few short years, these words could take on such a new and different connotation. Draco raised his wand, and Hermione counted them down.

Immediately, Draco attempted to hex Harry, only to be blocked by a quick “protego.” Realizing that this was going to be an interesting duel, the two grinned at each other competitively.

“Impedimenta!” Called Harry, but Draco blocked it easily. He fired off a stinging hex, which hit Harry partially as he attempted to duck. Refusing to give in, Harry cast a binding curse that Draco reflected back to its owner. Throwing out a shield charm, Harry side stepped as Draco cast another curse his way.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry attempted to disarm Draco, but he was able to catch his wand in the opposite hand before falling victim to the spell.

“Confringo!” Draco called, flames hurled toward Harry from the tip of his wand.

“Aguamenti!” Water jetted toward the flames, extinguishing them in mid-air. Draco was panting at this point, each spell draining energy. 

“Duro!” Harry fought back, sweating but refusing to forfeit. The crowd was fully engaged; Hermione was biting her lip nervously while Seamus was making bets with Dean and Ernie. Most others watched intently, unable to remove their eyes from the experienced duelers before them.

“Everte Statum!” Draco dodged the hardening curse, and Harry flew backward a few feet before catching himself. “Flipendo!” He shouted vengefully, the dueling spirit alive within them both.

“Finite incatatem!” Draco nulled the jinx, pausing briefly to catch his breath. Harry took full advantage of this, throwing a jelly legs jinx toward him forcefully. Draco physically jumped to avoid it, smiling at Harry impressively.

“Immobulus!” Draco called confidently, aiming straight for Harry. The spell would’ve worked wonders, would have won him the duel even, had Harry not cast a similar charm simultaneously.

Magic swirled through the air toward the opponent, sifting in waves of green and blue. Streaks of glowing light wrapped around each other in the center, combining and twisting and feeding from each other. All at once, the Magic seemed to expand, branching outward from the middle. Harry and Draco both held fire to watch; neither had any idea what in the fuck was happening.

“Oh no,” Hermione winced, the only one present who had any clue of what to expect.

“What is it, Hermione?” Neville spoke timidly, eyes glued on the pattern of light waves suspended in the air between them.

“It’s the magic- the spells. I’ve read about this. When two experienced duelers channel enough magical energy, and at the off chance that they cast a similar spell, the magic can combine and-“

The next moment was a blur. Streams of blue-green light emanated outward, reflecting off of one another and back to the senders. Harry’s mouth dropped in confusion before the light struck him, blasting him backwards until he hit the wall behind them. Simultaneously, Draco was thrown to the opposing wall, slamming against it with a loudness that had everyone gaping. The next few seconds stretched timelessly. Harry and Draco lay motionless, frozen from the effects of the immobilization spells. Hannah’s hand was positioned over her open mouth; Seamus’s eyes were protruding from his skull. Ron was somber, unable to cope with a motionless Harry. 

“...backfire.”  
Hermione was the first to move, tugging on Ron’s arm in an attempt to snap him from his stupor. He shook his head wildly, nodding at Hermione once as she gestured toward Harry.

Hermione headed to the other side of the room, pointing her wand at Draco’s chest with a spoken “reinervate.” Almost immediately, he sat up with an audible gasp for air. Panting, he flashed a smile at Hermione and her extended hand. He gratefully accepted the boost, rising to his feet and whispering a soft “thank you.”

Across the room, Harry too was beginning to stir after Ron’s intervention. He gazed upward, vision of the redhead swirling slightly. Ron offered a hand, pulling a rejuvenated Harry upward with a slight smile. This was the most contact he’d had with Ron in days, and his saving spoke thousands of words that had gone silent between them. Things weren’t back to normal yet, no, but this was definitely the start of something. Harry grinned at the newfound hope, pulling Ron into a brotherly embrace.

“Pay up!” Macmillan slung his arms around Seamus and Dean, who forfeited a sickle each to the Hufflepuff. “Told you it would be a draw.”

“I really thought Harry would win this one. I had no idea Malfoy could duel like that,” Seamus admitted, and Dean shrugged.

“I’ve seen him in Snape’s class. I knew he had a shot.”

A humming spread throughout the room as everyone gossiped and shared their thoughts on the excitement of Harry and Draco’s duel. The two crossed the space to each other, shaking hands and laughing at the turn of events.

“Not bad, Potter,” Draco complimented impressively with a hint of playful sarcasm.

“Not bad yourself.” Harry crossed his arms but grinned whole-heartedly. They stared at each other briefly, caught somewhere between the past and present. Memories of fierce competitions and bitter rivalries flashed through each mind, and it was only a moment before both of them burst out laughing.

Oh, how things had changed. And the best part of it all was that neither Harry or Draco would’ve traded it for the world.

&&&

The rest of the meeting went smoothly. Draco’s fighting skills and honest confessions had earned him a spot in the Army, and he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so... normal. Even the Slytherin house wasn’t so welcoming to each other; everything was constantly a power struggle amongst the serpents.

At the end of the meeting, Draco was greeted with several hand shakes and hugs from the group members. Ron was still distant, though his presence lacked the contempt that it had once held. The room cleared out slowly, pairs leaving in a staggered array to avoid suspicion. Hanging around much longer than necessary was Cho, who approached Harry when all that remained was the three of them.

“It was great being back here again.” Her hands were folded, shoulders rocking side to side with each step. The movements instantly reminded Draco of a shy, desperate puppy, and he felt himself need to vomit.

“You know, I’ve really missed you, Harry. Things have changed so much since last year, don’t you think?” She completely ignored Draco, who glared at her scornfully. Instead, she stepped closer to the Chosen One.

“They really have, Cho. More than you think.” He shot a sideways glance at Draco, who was brooding until soft, knowing eyes met his own. It was clear that Harry wasn’t interested in the damned girl, and Draco found it hard to stifle a victorious grin. Harry remained indifferent, his arms folded in a stance that was very matter of fact.

Cho wore a bemused expression, and Draco wondered how the hell this girl was sorted into Ravenclaw. “Okay, then. Erm, well, I guess I’ll see you, then.” She flashed him that canine smile, full of longing. Draco really did try his best not to roll his eyes, but they may have done so just slightly.

Cho exited the room, unsure of her ability to woo Harry. He seemed preoccupied, but with what? Maybe it was just bad timing. She convinced herself that this was true as she cantered back to Ravenclaw tower.

&&&

“Aren’t you going to run after her? She’s getting away, you know,” Draco asked sardonically. The door to the Room of Requirement had just latched, and they were alone.

Harry rolled his eyes, stepping closer to Draco. “Maybe you should run after her. And tell her that I am already absolutely, moronically in love with someone else.”

He ran a finger from Draco’s temple, tracing his cheek and jaw, studying his features like he’d never seen them before. Every time was like the first time when it came to Draco, a fountain that left Harry thirsty for more. He touched a fingertip lightly to both lips, brushing across the soft pink. Draco’s mouth opened slightly in response, falling limp at the tingling sensation brought on by Harry’s touch. He let his hand drop, appreciating Draco’s angelic features shyly. Both eyelids had fluttered shut; his lips were still parted beneath soft, rosy cheeks that appeared to be completely relaxed. Unable to resist, he reached forward to gently grasp either side of Draco’s head and propped himself upward to plant a kiss onto the center of his frontal bone. This was followed by a trail of several pecks along soft, pale skin. He placed his lips gently along each closed eyelid, to the tip of his nose, and down along the side of his left cheek and jaw. Draco hummed gingerly, absorbed by each smooth caress.

“You know, I would say that tonight was a success,” Harry whispered in a hushed breath that Draco could taste. “I’m proud of you.”

The words struck Draco, and both eyelids sprung open to search emerald irises for sincerity. The sound of each consonant and vowel was foreign; it was a sentence that he had never heard until the present moment. Grassy eyes showed nothing but raw honesty, and Draco melted at the realization that his emotions were valid.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Harry smiled wryly, the edge of his mouth turning upward. “You are the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, and one of the bravest people I’ve ever known. Definitely the bravest Slytherin.” His smile widened as his face inched even closer to Draco’s.

“I love you.” The words were almost blurted, Draco unable to contain his rising affection for the boy before him. He was drunk on Harry’s scent, his breath a cool breeze upon lips. Something deep within Draco, a knot of sorts, was loosening. He could feel it tighten and relax in phases that were induced by Harry’s pride. Here, in this moment, a bliss had settled upon them that led Draco to believe that for the time being, there was a chance that everything would turn out okay.

Harry pressed his smile against Draco’s lips wholly, returning the sentiment with a whispered “I love you, too.”

&&&

Dumbledore’s Army met consistently over the course of the next week. They’d mastered the review of things they’d worked on during 5th year and were broadening their knowledge of defense spells. Hermione had been studying especially hard, bringing textbooks to the meetings that were quite large and found only in the restricted section of the library. They’d branched from hexes to shields to defensive charms and spells that increased power. Draco even learned a thing or two, extensively trained in dark arts and hexes but lacking in charms. He and Harry made a hell of a teaching duo; Draco was able to educate the team on what to expect from a Death Eater while Harry taught them how to fight against it.

This evening, the two stood back to back while streams of light shot and reflected around the room. Harry and Draco observed their “students” proudly while they engaged in practice amongst themselves.

Ron, Harry noticed, had improved greatly. He had even managed to beat Hermione a time or two, which was absolutely unheard of thus far. Harry had patted him on the shoulder after he’d won, a wide grin beaming on his face. For a second, Ron’s face had matched, until he noticed Draco smiling in his direction as well. Refusing to accept the fact that he’d learned anything from Malfoy, Ron’s shoulders slumped as he turned the other cheek. Harry shot an unspoken apology at Draco, who shrugged in defeat.

Tonight, however, everyone seemed to be in good spirits. Hannah beamed excitedly at Neville, who she’d defeated 3 times in a row with her superior charm work. Ginny fought to hex Luna, who preferred shield charms in her own peaceful, delicate demeanor. Ginny’s flirty teasing and Luna’s overly touchy reciprocation did not go unnoticed by Draco, whose speculations were brewing rapidly into fact. 

Bones and Macmillan were laughing heartily after they simultaneously struck one another with a tickling jinx. Overall, the air in the room was joyful, determined, triumphant even. The team’s increasing skills had their confidence peaking. Seamus has taken the time to tell tales of their impending victory against Voldemort, a twinkle of strength and determination in his eye. No one knew what to expect in the upcoming nine days, which was all that remained in the timeline given them by Lucius Malfoy.

“Dean! Try holding your wand higher!” Harry called over the warring chaos, spells flying in each direction around them.

“Got it!” Dean Thomas raised his arm, and sure enough, Seamus tumbled to the ground in a binding spell.

“Great! Keep up the good work everyone!” Harry called across the room before tilting his head to the right, leaning inconspicuously toward Draco’s ear. “I think we’re really close. I can feel it in my bones. Dumbledore’s Army is almost ready.”

Draco nodded. “Maybe this is a long shot, but, Harry, I think we might have a chance.”

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand beneath the billowing fabric of their robes. No one seemed to notice.


	18. Horcruxes, Monsters, & Votes to Shag

&&&

The following afternoon found Hermione, Harry, and Draco perched at one of the far tables in the library. Classes had ended for the day, and Draco was more than excited to be done staring at chalkboards and parchment. With anticipation at its highest, an anxiousness had settled upon Draco in everything that he did. Yes, they’d been preparing to fight. Yes, Dumbledore seemed to be ready in his own omniscience. But Draco couldn’t help but notice a tugging in his lower gut that was a constant reminder of something dark approaching. It was a consistent panging, dripping like a leaky faucet in the back of his mind that wouldn’t fix. He tried to ignore the inevitable, but any moment of silence allowed his intuition to creep sluggishly to the forefront of his mind.

His shook his head, trying to dissipate the dark cloud hovering over his thoughts, threatening to erupt into a downpour. Luckily, his mental synapse was interrupted suddenly by Hermione slamming a rather large book down on the table. She hurriedly flipped through the pages, thumbing along the index and turning to her section of interest.

Her eyes scanned the page, finger tracing gently along the yellowed parchment. Draco’s breath caught as he could tell that Hermione was onto something. Her eyes widened, gears turning and pieces clicking into place. She cocked her head intuitively, wrapping her thoughts about her newest revelation.

“What is it, Hermione?” Harry leaned forward earnestly, following Draco’s curiosity.

“I’ve been doing some research on this stone that Dumbledore has given you both.” She whispered although they were alone in an attempt to shield from any listening ears. “You told me that Dumbledore said that the stone was no longer a part of what keeps Voldemort alive.” They nodded, allowing Hermione to lead them to the answers they’d so eagerly sought.

“Well, I don’t quite know what exactly the stone is or what it does. But according to this text, there’s a bit of black magic that might explain the ‘part of something that keeps Voldemort alive.’ It’s dark, though. Very dark.” She glanced between the two of them, then returned to reading.

“A horcrux allows one to achieve a sort of immortality. The witch or wizard can tie a piece of their soul to an object, although there is a heavy price to pay.” She paused, gulping before she continued down the paragraph.  
“In order to split the soul, a death is required by murder. After committing such a crime, Black Magic of the most forbidden kind can be used to tear the soul and tie it to the purposed object.”

She glanced up at a confused Harry and contemplative Draco.

“Hermione,” Draco was the first to break the silence. “Where on earth did you find that book?”

“A favor, actually. It was intended to be in the restricted section, but Madam Pince found it to be too unsettling. Professor McGonnagal allowed me to borrow it from her personal library.”

Harry’s mouth dropped into a resounding “o” shape, and Draco’s brow narrowed in interest.

“I’ve seen it before,” he told her, “In the Manor library. My father kept it hidden in the wall behind the shelves. It does contain some extremely dark magic.”

“So you think that the stone was part of a...horcrux?” Harry gazed at his best friend, who always had the answers one way or another. 

“Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it? It explains Dumbledore’s riddle. But if we’re correct, then that means Voldemort’s soul is tied to one, or perhaps many, objects.” She laced her fingers, going into lecture mode. “And if the stone USED to be part of a horcrux, then Dumbledore must have found a way to destroy it. The question is... how many more have to be destroyed before Voldemort becomes mortal? And what could this stone do that is safer for you both not to know anything about?”

No one said anything for a brief instant before Draco leaned forward, placing his chin heavily upon his right palm. “I think he knows more about this than he’s letting on. If he’s destroyed one horcrux, maybe he’s destroyed others. Maybe he’s planning on destroying them all.”

“You’re right, Draco.” Hermione nodded curtly in his direction. “We can assume as much.”

“Well, until we can ask him ourselves, I suppose we should try to find out as much on these horcruxes as we can. Maybe that will lead us to the purpose of the stone we’ve been told to protect.” Harry fingered his pocket, where the ruby rock lay motionless.

“Yes, but I do recommend that we be... careful.” Hermione eyed them worriedly. “Dumbledore was clear on his instructions for you not to find out its use. We’re dealing with very dark magic here. For all we know... that stone could be cursed or something.”

Draco nodded. Hermione, in all of her brightness, had a valid point.

“Well, whatever it is,” Harry responded confidently, “I trust that Dumbledore wouldn’t have given it to us without good reason. Everything seems to be methodical with him. And I know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt us.”

The door to the library creaked opened, and Hermione hurriedly put away the book when we saw a mop of red hair crossing the room. “I’ll do some more research, and I’ll let you know what I find.” She whispered hastily. Ron approached the table.

“There you are, ‘Mione! I figured you’d be camping out in here. How’s the studying?”

Hermione flushed slightly, and Draco immediately sensed her apprehension. It seemed that he was only one with an uncanny ability to lie at the table. 

“When has the studying ever been less than scholarly for Granger? For Merlin’s sake, she hasn’t said a word this whole time.” Ron peered at Draco skeptically, astounded at his nonchalance.

“Well, you’re right I suppose, Ferret. Don’t even think about cheating off of her.”

At this, Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up. “Honestly, Ronald, not everyone tries to cheat off of me. That’s mostly just you and Harry!”

Ron flushed a bright pink, freckles blending into a sunset rose. Draco smirked, unable to help himself. Harry laughed at the remark, unashamed, and waved goodbye to the couple as they exited the room. He shook his head heartily, chuckling lightly at his best friends. “They’re something else,” he declared, and Draco shrugged.

“I’m sure you’re right, but I can agree with you on one thing.” Harry turned toward Draco, listening intently.

“They’re most definitely, without a doubt, in love with each other.”

&&&

Dumbledore’s Army met again that evening, distracting Draco from the pent up angst edging at the corner of his mind. For some reason (probably his own sense of impending doom, he concluded) he was awfully quick to set off. The most minute things were angering him, driving him mental for no known reason. Cho peered at Harry with those puppy dog eyes, and God, he wanted to strangle both her and her lack of self worth. The rage was a monster, eating away at any preserve of happiness that Draco had been rationing.

“You’re being too easy on them,” he told Harry privately after he returned from tutoring Hannah on her wand motion. Harry’s brow furrowed confusedly, taking Draco’s opinion into consideration.

“You think so?” He tilted his head to the side, and Draco’s fury couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled a rather daft loon when he was puzzled.

“You think one of Voldemort’s men is going to wait for them to position their wand correctly?” He spat, the rage within blooming excitedly as it found liberation in the target before him. “Do you think my father will give them a chance to adjust their pronunciation before he kills them?” Draco’s hands were balled into fists, and he wasn’t even sure why. All he knew was that whatever emotions he had held previously were now coated by a red ire, seeping and stealing all thought and reason.

“Draco, I’m sorry, I- I didn’t think-“ Harry stumbled on his words, trying to push them out but halting bemusedly at the oddity of Draco’s reaction. Harry had known him to be haughty, even cold and uncaring in the past, but never angry. Something was definitely wrong... but what? Voldemort was upon them, but he’d been so for days now. What had changed?

Harry wasn’t quick enough. Draco’s fuse burned rapid with flame.

“You know what? I- I can’t do this. I have to go.” The argument was hushed and drew minimal attention from anyone around them. The only eyes upon them were Hermione’s, and, less fortunately, Ron’s.

“Draco, wait-“ Harry protested, but the Slytherin had already pivoted on one heel toward the exit. Without a backward glance, the door to the Room creaked open and closed behind him.

Harry stood, frozen solid with wonder at what the fuck had just happened. Draco had never snapped at him this way, not even as a mortal enemy. His thoughts and actions were always planned meticulously to get just the proper rise out of you. Their conversation now had been erratic, uncontrolled and ill-tempered. This wasn’t Draco at all.

Noticing brown eyes upon him, Harry shrugged at Hermione. Someone had to run the defense meeting, and if Draco couldn’t at the moment, Harry would have to step in. He only hoped that the boy was okay in his defiance.

&&&

The dark wood furnished door leading to the Slytherin common room was slammed viciously as Draco made his returning appearance. Several students were lounging about, studying or engaging in games of exploding snaps or other activities that didn’t particularly interest him at the moment. His plan was to head straight to the dormitory without detour, an attempt at caging the beast gone loose inside him. His hopes were dashed rather quickly, he realized disappointedly, as Pansy raised a hand to signal his wanted presence by the fire. She flicked her index finger lavishly, in that seductive, chilling way that was characteristic of a Parkinson. Draco grimaced and reluctantly joined Pansy’s little group, finding that the eyes of Zabini, Nott, and Greengrass were steadily branding him, along with a few others. He’d obviously been the topic of discussion in his absence, but he had no patience for Slytherin games of dominance. Instead, he cut right to the chase:

“Yes, Parkinson? Did you call me over here to fact check your rumors for a change, or have you already been spreading them regardless?” The words were venomous, injected with a tone of malevolence that Draco rarely held specifically in her direction. For a moment, her eyes widened with an emotion that crossed between fear, pain, and resolute ire. Pansy, shrewd as she was, had always lacked a good poker face. Her expression immediately flattened and recollected into one of sly and poise, folding her arms and studying Draco like she didn’t recognize him.

“What’s been your deal, Malfoy? Your house mates are worried about you.” She gestured to the group around her. “You spend more time with Potter and that little mudblood than we’ve seen you for all week.”

Draco bit his cheek until a metallic ooze seeped against his taste buds. He couldn’t correct her without giving away his allegiance, a very vital secret he had to keep. Instead, he became defensive.

“What is this, like an intervention?” He retorted coldly, rudely glaring at the others before him. “It’s none of your business who I’ve been with. I have my reasons for attending such company.”

“Do tell, us, Draco.” Pansy’s voice was rising as she stepped forward, annunciating every consonant with an anger that had been pent up for far too long. “Tell us what your reason is for involving yourself in the likes of Potter and that filthy little bitch!” Draco retracted. For a moment, he swore he saw a fire blazing in Pansy’s eyes. A flame that was not regarded of him, but towards him, and he suddenly recognized the actions of jealousy.

“Is it the Dark Lord’s plan for you to become a muggle-loving, traitorous prat! Or was it your plan, and only yours, this entire time!?” She stamped closer, pressing her index finger heavily into Draco’s chest. “Tell us, Draco! Why are you defending...” She dug her perfectly manicured fingernail into the skin of his chest. “...a dying...” Her words were edged through gritted teeth, sinking with Draco’s betrayal to an unforgivable ground. “...Breed?”

Draco froze. Mudbloods, a dying breed. Pansy was beyond saving, he quickly concluded, and he’d have to let her go. Along with the rest of them. As much as he hated what they stood for, what they’d always stood for, this moment hurt much more than he expected it to. Pansy may have loved him in a way that he could never reciprocate, or maybe she truly was just a raging hormonal wench that wanted Draco for his inheritance, but either way, she’d been loyal. Right up until this very moment.

He wasn’t sure why he’d expected any less from the Slytherins. He couldn’t play both sides forever; Harry’s mere presence would destroy any facade he’d built. Draco wasn’t a brilliant Occlumens, like Professor Snape. There was no hiding; he’d just been hoping to put off their suspicions until something more concrete had obliterated his apparent devotion to Voldemort. He drew in a breath, preparing his response. If he came clean now, he’d be hexed, perhaps even killed. He had to play, or attempt, the game for a little while longer. For one more week.

“A wise wizard once told me to keep your friends close, and your enemies-“ he placed his own index finger just below the hollow space between her collar bones. “Even closer.”

He stepped back, sifting through faces.

“None of you, and I mean, none... know what I’m planning.” He was being honest, after all, but when had that mattered? “So I suggest you check your own loyalties... before questioning mine.” His last words were barked, bitten from the monster within. Pansy stood still, arms crossed stiffly across her chest. She was unwavering, he could tell. For some reason, Pansy Parkinson no longer trusted him.

“Pansy, give the guy a break.” The next voice heard was Zabini, who piped through the uncomfortable silence with an unspoken declaration of support. “Malfoy’s always up to something. You’ve never questioned that until now. What’s up your own sleeve?”

There was a succession of faces all turning skeptically toward Pansy and her pouting lips. She could make them listen but notoriously lacked the ability to make the Slytherins stay. Zabini, on the other hand, was no less than God to the other serpents.

All eyes upon her, Pansy let out a distinct huff before stalking to the girl’s dormitory. Exhausted and grateful for Zabini’s save, Draco shot him an appreciative glance before heading to his own dorm. Once they were both out of ear shot, Blaise turned to the group. “Now, how many of you all just want them to go ahead and shag so they can get rid of all those teenage hormones that have them all riled up?”

A series of loyal hands shot into the air.

&&&

Draco kicked his trunk vehemently, unsure of whether to feel extreme relief or unsettlement. This moment he’d narrowly escaped from meant both so much and so little. He’d grown to love Pansy in her own sickening, fraternal way, and the betrayal of her accusation was toxic. Even if it was, in fact, correct.

Draco knew down to his core that he was making the right choice. His defensive urge to protect Granger from discrimination alone proved his change of heart. His love for Harry, well, that was a whole new reason. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, taking an exasperated seat upon the bed. He hadn’t even realized the tears brimming until they surfaced, streaming in pools of realization. This was it. As much as he hated his father and all of the wretched abuses and transgressions that were a part of Lucius Malfoy, a small section of his soul longed to please him still. This was an inherent desire burning from deep within that had eventually died to a few smoldering embers, ashen and molten with scars. The flames were nonetheless present, scorching him now as he realized it. Even more alarming was the revelation that his mother, who had worried about him incessantly and confessed it even in all of her weakness to his Godfather... would hate him soon. The moment she would became aware of Draco’s switch in alliances... the thought pained him even more than the inevitable rejection of all of his childhood friends.

His mind flashed to mugs of hot cocoa, marshmallows sweet against the salty taste of his own mouth. Of his mother providing games for him to play with Dobby while she and Father handled important business. Of how she cared, in her own, twisted, fearful way. And that’s when Draco had another epiphany: the gut-wrenching fear Narcissa must have felt her entire marriage. If he had been scarred this badly in his own 17 years... what had she survived? He balled his hands, resting his mouth on the posterior surface of clenched fingers. His eyes drifted to the floor, then to the ceiling in his own personal hell of a reverie.

It would all be over soon. His thoughts were screaming repetitively against the tables of his skull. It would all be gone. And he would have to run, because no one betrays the Dark Lord and lives. Not even Harry, who in all of his innocence had never purposely defied any one. How many times had he narrowly escaped death now?

A pang of hurt that ran deeper than any thus far seemed to carve a trench down the midline of Draco’s chest. Harry. How in the midst of all the pain, those same mugs of hot cocoa could bring him warmth and joy and comfort. How they had touched foreheads, and in that one swift motion Harry had brought Draco to a place he’d never known before: home.

And it was this person whom he’d unleashed this foul beast upon. He’d snapped at him, yelled rashly, and stormed off without explanation. Harry didn’t deserve to be treated like that; In fact, Draco didn’t deserve Harry at all. In his brash stupidity, he’d probably lost him forever. And now, how could he feel sorry for himself? He unlaced his fingers to brush at his cheek sulkily, then used the sleeve of his robe as a makeshift tissue for his impacted sinuses.

With a sigh, he pulled out his wand and cleaned the mess. He really had outdone himself this time; sitting alone in the dormitory of the House he’d betrayed and using his clothing as a snot rag is not where he’d ever imagined himself to be. He felt caged, imprisoned. The monster was clawing at the edges of his gut, pressing the need for escape. He had to get out of this room; he had to leave. Anywhere. In the next second, he had already risen from his post and was sprinting manically away from the dungeons. Away from everyone.

His run found him outside, along the posterior border of the castle. The sun was starting to set, and he knew curfew would be soon. He contemplated flying, escaping to the meadow in which Harry has professed his love not so long ago. As he was about to Accio his broom, another thought flitted instinctively through his mind. Cautiousness had never been a strong point for Draco, but an internal voice was whispering for him to stop. He’d never visited the mountains at night, and there was no telling what kind of nocturnal creatures lurked in the dense forests of the landscape. Creatures that Voldemort himself had probably persuaded to join his cause. He gulped, settling instead by taking a seat in the grass.

This was better than nothing, he supposed, and the monster was at bay for the time being. Where had this beast come from, and how would he tame it?

With nothing and no one left to comfort him, Draco lay his head back and didn’t try to hold back the tears. The sun set before him.


	19. Always

“Harry? Is everything alright?” He expected to hear the concerned woes of Hermione, but the voice backgrounding him was slightly raspier and much more masculine.

Everyone had left the Room of Requirement at the conclusion of the latest DA meeting with the exception of the original Golden Three.

“I saw Malfoy looking all snarky, and he yelled at you or something. And then he left. What in the bloody hell was that about?” Ron was advancing in what Harry feared was an Anti-Draco Tyrade. As he approached closely, however, there was a redemptive gleam in his eye.

When Harry didn’t respond, Ron continued further. “Is everything with you two alright? ‘Cause I can hex him, if you want, Harry. The second he hurts you, I’m using Hermione’s spell book on his ferret arse.” The words were harsh, but the corner of his lip tugged into that famous lop-sided Weasley grin.

“Please, Ron. Don’t hurt the spell book by hitting Malfoy upside the head with it.” Hermione’s grin gave away her playful intent.

“I’m serious, you know.” He tried to sound convincing, but there was an air of forgiveness in his voice. For the first time, Harry saw a glimpse of acceptance from his best friend.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Ron. He’s just having a tough time. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Okay, mate, but promise you’ll let me hex him if he screws up too much.”

“Ronald!” Hermione scolded frivolously, and Harry reveled in the weightlessness of the present moment. A blissful feeling had settled deep within his bones, and, for the time being, it seemed as if everything would be alright.

For the first time in a while, the trio exited the Room of Requirement as a group and headed to Gryffindor tower. It was nice to have Ron back for the moment, and Harry was more than grateful for the reprieve. Even through the jokes and lighthearted jabs, however, a sinking feeling had begun to descend upon his gut. Perhaps it was the doubt that Ron’s apparent acceptance would last. Or maybe it was the fact that Draco was out there, somewhere, upset and alone. Harry shook his head, determined with each step to find out where exactly Draco had disappeared to.

Upon entering the portrait hole, Ron and Harry bid Hermione goodnight and headed up to the boy’s dormitory. Harry immediately crossed the room to his trunk, hurriedly sifting through his belongings until he retrieved the Marauders’ Map. Ron stared after him curiously, watching him hastily unfold the parchment and mutter the words “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

“What are you doing, mate?” He questioned suspiciously, offended that their redemptive stint had been cut short.

“I’m going to find Draco,” he answered, eyes scanning actively across the map.

“But I thought he was mad at you!” Ron exclaimed, hurt oozing from between his words.

“I told you, he’s just going through some things. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to find him and make sure he’s alright.”

“But we’ve spoken more in the last 20 minutes than we have in weeks! And you’re just going to up and leave for Malfoy?” His face was reddening, anger spewing with each syllable.

Harry felt his whole body tighten at Ron’s fury. “Seriously, Ron!? You don’t get it, do you? You’re my best mate, but I need you to understand how much he means to me!”

“How much he means to you? I know you fancy him, Harry, but we’ve been friends longer than that!” Ron was speaking with his hands now, a sign that he was most definitely losing any sense of calm within him.

“I don’t just ‘fancy,’ him, Ron! You’re my best friend, and I would expect you to understand that he means more to me than just some fling!” Harry was extremely appreciative of the fact that they happened to be alone.

“How do you know, Harry? How can you be sure?” His intent was concern, but his words were poisonous.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I don’t question your feelings for Hermione, so why are you questioning mine?” Harry’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He’d had a feeling that Ron’s open mindedness would be short-lived.

“That’s different, mate! I love her!” There was a chilling silence between them at Ron’s newest proclamation. Harry sighed, calming himself.

“First of all, why haven’t you told her that? And secondly, it’s not any different. I’m not asking you to fully understand, I’m just asking you not to hold this against us.”

Ron flushed, becoming a bit more self aware at Harry’s calm sentiment. “I- I have my reasons.” He found himself stumbling over the words he’d been unprepared to speak. He watched voicelessly as Harry’s eyebrows perked at the discovery of Draco’s location.

“Mischief managed.” Harry folded the map and placed it away. He glanced upward, meeting Ron’s uncertainty.

“Look, I have to go find him. Please don’t be rash. Nothing will ever replace you and Hermione, Ron. I promise.” Harry was already grabbing his invisibility cloak and patting himself down to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. Ron didn’t say a word, but his eyes were understanding.

With a single nod, Harry exited the dormitory, cloaked himself, and set out toward the main entrance.

&&&

The moon was a perfect circle, completely round in its full glory. The light rested in a pale glow across Draco’s cheeks, reflected off of platinum hair, and cast a deep shadow on the grass beneath him. It was almost peaceful, the silence ringing in both ears and drowning his thoughts. The only sound that resonated in the following moment was the gentle breeze that rustled the trees and tickled Draco’s hair against his forehead. He closed his eyes, resting his head back against the coolness of the soil. He’d cried his heart out, sniffled, and then sobbed some more, and now he was strangely empty. There was nothing he could do now, he supposed, other than accept what was to come. And hope that Harry could forgive his belligerence.

The wind died down, and there was a serene quiet resting across the landscape once more. Mountains dotted the horizon, visible even in darkness. Draco tried to appreciate the beauty of one of his favorite spots, but fell short in the absence of Harry. A knot of loneliness and regret seemed to twist into his stomach, and he swallowed back any additional tears.

It was at this moment that he heard the rustling of grass beside him, a bit too close to mistake for the wind. He turned his head laterally to see an empty space but wasn’t fooled. His lips turned up into a small smile as he allowed his eyelids to flutter shut once more. “Harry,” he whispered softly, voice washed with a happy relief that spread from head to foot.

There was a shuffle of fabric as he removed the cloak and turned onto his left side. “Are you surprised, love?”

Draco nodded, eyes still shut blissfully. “I didn’t think you’d come for me. I thought you’d hate me after I flipped out on you.”

Unexpectedly, Harry chuckled. “Hate you? Draco, I could never hate you. You are everything to me.” Draco’s lids flashed open, steel eyes meeting green.

“God, I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to freak out on you. There’s really no excuse for it.”

Harry reached a hand up to brush Draco’s blonde lock behind his ear. “You’ve had a lot on your mind today. I can tell.”

Draco nodded, enjoying the thrill of Harry’s touch. “I don’t know what happened. I was doing alright, really, and then today everything just sort of came crashing down on me.” He leaned into Harry’s palm, nuzzling his cheek against cool skin.

“Voldemort. That’s what happened.” Harry paused, gazing into Draco’s shocked pupils. He drew in a breath before continuing. “Last year, Hermione and Ron thought I was a ticking time bomb. I had nightmares, and visions, and no one seemed to believe me. I was quiet, withdrawn. And no one knew exactly when I would snap at them next.”

Draco’s gaze softened at Harry’s apparent understanding. “I know what it’s like to be angry for no reason. I used to think something was wrong with me. The truth is, it’s not you, Draco. It’s him. Messing with your head and threatening to take everything from you.”

Draco felt a choking sensation near his Adam’s apple, particularly moved by Harry’s words. Voldemort WAS going to take everything from him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Speechlessly, red rimmed eyes threatened to pour.

“Draco...” Harry began, choosing his words carefully. “I know that your family and friends are all you’ve ever known. They’re going to see you’re change of alliance as a betrayal. And that’s going to hurt. It’s already hurting, I can tell. But please, try to remember... these are the same people that would hand you over to him.” Harry’s stare was truthful and earnest, wanting nothing more than the best for his mate. Draco reluctantly allowed the next round of water works to begin.

“I know.” He whispered, and it was all he could say before the sobs took heir. Noticing Draco’s scrunched up expression, recognizing the verge of tears, Harry placed a hand on the back of his head and pulled it onto his shoulder, forming an embrace that was both warm and fuzzy.

Draco held nothing back, sobs coating the surface of Harry’s robes, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. His chest heaved, gasping for breath in between fits of crying. It was both a physical and emotional reprieve; his body threatened to vomit and similarly his panic was slowly leaving with each fit. Harry’s arms were so comforting, so much like home, and knew that as long as he had this, he could do anything.

“It’s okay, Draco,” Harry consoled in a hushed tone, “I’ve got you. You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.”

The words only fueled the breakdown, and Draco found himself thrusting every molecule into Harry. He could feel them mixing, combining and forming compounds that were chemically intact. Nothing could separate them now, not without each forming a new element. Not without destroying themselves.

Harry sensed Draco’s longing and held him tighter. “I love you, Harry,” Draco spoke between muffled sobs.

Harry pressed deeply and forcefully against Draco, atoms becoming flush. “I will always love you, Draco. Always.”


	20. A Serpent Amongst Lions

Things were both better and worse for Draco the next couple of days.

He and Harry were closer than ever, a newfound understanding alive between them. As long as they had each other, everything would work itself out. The future was a blurry mess, but the present was theirs. And that was a beautiful thing.

What was worse was the fact that Pansy was beyond her typical angst and spent most of her time shooting death glares in his direction. Thankfully, the rest of the Slytherins were at bay... for the moment. Blaise had them all reluctantly trusting him, but he could tell their loyalty was transparent at best. It was only a matter of time before they’d all turn on him.

...but isn’t that what he technically did to them the second he’d switched sides? He supposed he couldn’t really blamed them. Slytherins were about self-preservation, and Draco couldn’t hold that against them. Just like he couldn’t blame himself for leaving. 

On the day that marked five left, Draco found himself surrounded by quiet whispers at the Slytherin table. He’d finished his lunch, sitting there awkwardly as no one cared to speak to him. Blaise was caught in a heated debate with Nott that he didn’t care to listen to. The rest were discussing softly amongst themselves with the occasional glance shot in his direction. It looked as if Blaise’s persuasion was wearing thin, and Pansy smirked vindictively. All at once, Draco had had enough.

“Alright, arseholes. You don’t want to speak? Fine. You can all sod off.”

With several dropped mouths and glances his way, Draco picked up his things and stalked across the hall... right up to the Gryffindor table.

There was an open seat between Harry and Seamus, and Draco took it upon himself to sit as if he’d been doing it everyday for years.

He slipped his bag under the table and helped himself to a bit of treacle tart. Without a word, he took a bite and glanced up to see all of Gryffindor, and most of Slytherin, staring in his direction.

Mouth full, he muttered a quick “What?” And Harry couldn’t help himself. He burst out with a loud guffaw, the laugh resonating from deep within his belly. With all of the darkness invading their thoughts and actions as of late, something as simple and yet so bold as Draco sitting at a table full of Gryffindors was refreshing and exhilarating.

Harry wiped tears from beneath his glasses and placed an inviting arm around Draco’s shoulder. “Welcome to the greatest table of the Great Hall, Draco. I see you’ve found the dessert.”

The rest of the Gryffindors seemed to relax at Harry’s acceptance; if he thought it was okay for a Slytherin to invade their midst, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Members of the DA hardly batted an eye after the initial shock wore off, remembering that Malfoy and Harry had more than made up in the recent past.

The Slytherins were the last to drop their gazes, mouths hanging as wide as their eyes. Pansy’s face was scrunched up into a grimace so ugly that he’d never seen her wear it before. Blaise shook his head disappointedly, having already tried to vouch for him once. The funny thing was, however, that Draco no longer gave a shit.

He no longer cared about their stares or their whispers or the fact that at least one would probably leak the fact that he was hanging out with a bunch of Gryffindors to his father. He’d already covered his arse as much as he could, having claimed that he was trying to befriend Harry for his grand scheme that night in the fireplace. He’d miss the Slytherins, sure, but Draco no longer missed who he used to be. And that alone made it easier to move on.

Ron didn’t object to Draco’s presence but carried on a conversation with Hermione that purposely didn’t include him. Harry grasped his hand beneath the table, whispering things like “I’m so proud of you,” and “Don’t worry about your housemates; they’re just jealous.” When Draco shook his head lovingly, a playful smirk upon his lips, Harry leaned in to whisper once more.

“They’re jealous of the things I’m going to do to you when we’re alone.” Draco’s eyes widened as he almost choked on treacle tart. Coughing violently, Harry laughed to himself and handed Draco a glass of water. The balance of the universe had definitely shifted, the prince of Slytherin perched bravely amongst lions. Harry noted the twisted irony with pleasure and wondered if this universal imbalance is what they’d needed all along to win.

&&&

Draco’s confidence was swelling, shifting and expanding into a smile that was plastered across his face. He had spent the greater part of his lunch in territory that no Slytherin had dared to tread before. Furthermore, the lions had seemed willing enough to accept his presence amongst their pride, and it was nice to not be spurned or shunned. It had been, in fact, the most accepted Draco felt in years.

What was even more liberating was the complete lack of care Draco now felt resting in the area of his brain that had previously caged the monster. No more haunting paranoia, lashing out tendencies, or the overwhelming and insatiable crave for turmoil.

Draco walked peacefully next to Harry, a weightless buzz carrying him along his own personal high. He hadn’t noticed how heavy life had become until he felt himself quit giving an absolute fuck. He had reached his breaking point at lunch that day, the small and insignificant whispers of his fellow Slytherins grating on every frustrated and fraying nerve. Their loyalty was rubbish, a quick and fleeting proclamation that didn’t depend on time. He’d known Pansy for most of his life, and yet, she’d questioned his intentions ruthlessly. Something about that moment, where he’d inevitably and perhaps quite stupidly snapped, had set him free.

So what if Lucius Malfoy became ill-informed of his apparent relationship with the Gryffindors? He’d come up with some poorly framed excuse that would last another 5 days. And then, it wouldn’t matter, now would it? He could be gay, hell, he could be gay with POTTER and it would make no difference. The Dark Lord would still want his head on a stake.

And, strangely, this thought no longer gave him the urge to tuck his tail and run. He was Draco GodDamn Malfoy, for fuck’s sake, and he wasn’t going down without a fight. He’d spent his entire life cowering, beaten and bruised by the man he knew to be his father. There was absolutely no need for him to die that way. He smirked to himself mid-thought. Maybe some of that Gryffindor courage HAD rubbed off on him after all. Either way, he’d never been more ready to stand for what he believed in, and for the first time in his life he felt a sense of purpose settle comfortably within the marrow of his bones.

His good spirits were a clever match to Harry’s, who could sense Draco’s feather lightness like never before. The feeling was foreign, resonating between the two of them freely.

“Off to Arithmancy, you go, then.” They paused in the middle of the corridor, this particular spot a midway point between Draco’s and Harry’s last classes. Without so much as a glance in any direction, Draco placed his hands on each of Harry’s biceps and gently pressed a kiss to his lips. Startled, he jumped slightly but found himself unable to move regardless. Draco’s lips were intoxicating; there was no resistance here.

“What’s gotten into you, love?” Harry smiled, noticing after the fact that, incidentally, they were alone.

Draco’s face was serious, but there was a twinkle in his eye that conveyed his newfound hope. He ran a palm along the anterior surface of Harry’s chest, vision focused upon his while subtly biting his lower lip.

“I’m done, Harry. Isn’t that wonderful?” He smiled wildly, vague in his answer but uncaring. Harry shook his head with a face that was puzzled but excited and grateful for whatever the hell had made Draco so lighthearted. Merlin knew that if anyone deserved to be carefree or happy in his own right, it was the boy before him. Before he could ask anything further, Draco had already pressed a peck to his cheek and was waltzing in the direction of his next class.

“Meet me after class, yeah?” He turned back while he walked, white teeth gleaming into that perfect smile. Grinning stupidly, Harry shook his head and recognized just how deep he’d fallen into this. Smug at the swooning response that was undeniably plastered across Harry’s expression, he lightly turned back and headed down the corridor.

Harry stood there for a while, hypnotized by Draco’s undying charm that followed him around the corner ahead. Chuckling softly, he finally made in the opposite direction for McGonagall’s Transfiguration class. What a stupid, wonderful, perfect git he’d claimed as his own. That blonde prat just wouldn’t leave his mind.

&&&

Two failed attempts at transfiguring a candle into a lantern and one half successful Seamus burning himself on the wax later, and Harry was waiting peacefully for Draco beneath a tree overlooking the lake. He propped himself against the bark; it was a bit uncomfortable and scratchy but he didn’t mind much. Things in general seemed to be more tolerable today. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and enjoyed the quiet sounds of the lake: water lapping at the bank in a smooth, shallow tide; leaves rustling above his head in a shy, restless wind; footsteps- there were footsteps now, and he sprung suddenly to search for the source. Not far ahead was the git himself, sauntering over in an ethereal fashion that only enhanced his angelic demeanor.

He approached delicately, an apple in one hand that he raised to his lips. As he reached Harry, his mouth curved around the bite into an unintentionally seductive smile.

“Hey, you.” Harry scooted to the right, providing Draco the space to sit next to him. He happily obliged, perching himself against the tree without any space between their thighs. He handed the apple to Harry, who mouthed a rather large chunk.

“How was transfiguration?”

“Good. Candles to lanterns... lots of hot wax. Big messes.” He spit between chews in a way that was barely understandable. Draco giggled, aware of just how cute his boyfriend was with his mouth full. His mind traveled somewhere inappropriate, and he felt himself blush.

“What...bout....arithmancy?” Harry had taken another bite, cheeks loaded to the brim.

“Excellent. Would you believe me if I told you that I beat Granger on today’s exam?” Draco smirked as Harry felt some of the apple fall from his mouth.

Draco laughed out loud. “Don’t act so shocked. It was only by a couple of answers. But still!”

Harry swallowed with an audible gulp and turned his head to face Draco. “I always knew you could out-Granger Hermione.” He chuckled as Draco shoved him playfully.

Within the next few microseconds, Harry had bounced back from the push and, somehow, their lips had locked. Harry tilted his head some degrees and parted his mouth, allowing Draco to slip his tongue softly inside.

“Mmm.” A gentle groan escaped Draco’s throat, butterflies fluttering throughout. Harry smiled into the kiss, and Draco returned the sentiment as he placed a hand on the side of Harry’s jaw. He massaged his thumb gently against Harry’s cheek, causing a shudder to run down his spine in response. After a moment, they separated, and a seriousness settled in the air between them like a heavy dust.

“It’s nice to see you not give a damn, Draco. As messed up as that sounds.” Harry’s tone was solemn, truthful.

“I know. This is the first time in my entire life I’ve felt so free.” Draco stared across the lake, contemplating memories of fear and fire. There was silence before Harry bravely treaded waters he wasn’t sure Draco was ready to wade through.

“Have you heard from your mother?”

Draco’s gaze remained unchanged, lost along the horizon. “No.”

More silence. Harry was unsure of what to say next, or how to console him. He knew that Draco cared for his mother deeply, even if she had mistreated him in some way.

“My mother has made her own choices. As much as I want to, I can’t help her. At the end of the day, she will stand by my father. And there’s nothing I can do about that.” He turned his head to meet Harry’s studying expression.

“I’m sorry, Draco. I’m sorry that things had to be this way for you.” Harry’s concern was genuine, but he wasn’t sure how to come across that way.

“Don’t be sorry for me. We have a war to win. You’ve got enough of your own problems to be sorry for me.” Draco had never taken much for pity, and, while he wasn’t angry, there was no desire for sympathy from anywhere within his being.

“You’re wrong.” Harry’s voice had a sharp edge to it, and Draco’s stomach immediately lurched. “You don’t have problems. I don’t have problems. WE have problems, Draco. It’s not just ‘you and I’ anymore. It’s US.” He paused, picking a blade of grass from the ground beside him and tearing it into pieces. A nervous, scatter-brained habit, no doubt.

“I’m sorry.” Harry looked up to find Draco’s gray irises burning into his own. “I didn’t think. You’re right.” They stayed like this for a while, eyes locked in a stare that held more than just forgiveness.

The corner of Draco’s lip twitched into a wry smile. His eyes softened from hard steel into cloudy gray skies.

“Although, if I may say so, OUR only real problem is how long it’s been since...” He picked up a hand and lightly rested it on Harry’s inner thigh. Slowly, he slid his palm superiorly, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the school uniform. Harry shuddered, unable to contain his own longing for Draco’s touch. His glasses slid awkwardly down the bridge of his nose, a clumsy reaction to the sudden jerking of his body.

Draco chuckled, a light and airy sound that reflected his recent liberation. Removing his hand from its suggestive position, he grasped the frames lightly and shifted the glasses to balance in their proper place.

Harry laughed nervously, cheeks flushing pink. “You’re, um, right,” he responded steadily, “that is a problem.”

Draco’s grin beamed with the light of a thousand suns. Without judging their surroundings, He thrust himself onto Harry and joined their lips in a hard, urgent lock that took his breath away. Harry’s back was scraping against jutting bark, but he didn’t mind one bit as Draco poured over him. With a knee on either side of Harry’s legs, Draco was leaning forward and propping himself on one palm; the other was wrapped in locks of black hair. Slytherin robes flushed with Gryffindor, Black fabric draping the ground and hiding any physical evidence beneath. Satisfied, Draco pulled back and replaced himself next to Harry.

“Are you trying to kill me, Malfoy? I might die from the tension alone.” Harry rested his head against the tree, attempting to persuade his thoughts to less arousing subject matter.

Draco laid his palm atop Harry’s pronated one, resting his own head against his shoulder.

“I guess old habits die hard.” He muttered playfully, and he heard Harry’s snicker from above him.

“Draco Malfoy, marks my words. You will forever be the death of me.”

Draco exhaled peacefully, enjoying the calm warmth that was being with Harry. “Well then, I guess that means we have forever.”

Harry smiled, and from his shoulder Draco couldn’t see the promise that was painted across emerald eyes. They felt hot and watery, as if he might cry but instead he felt an extreme sense of pride and of grateful desire.

“Forever.”

&&&

Some meters away and slightly out of sight, there was a rustling of grass and a soft “pluck” as she picked another daisy. She was hoping to gather enough for a crown, as she believed the white petals would contrast beautifully against Ginny’s red hair.

“Luna, love. There’s more over here!” The Weasley herself gestured her forward, and she skipped excitedly in her direction. Luna’s face lit eagerly as she noticed the bright array of white daisies surrounding Ginny.

“They’re perfect!” She squealed, bending to grasp another. Ginny blushed. She loved it when Luna was like this: here, in nature, where she was unbelievably raw and just so beautifully Luna. Her blonde curls were restless in the drifting wind, and Ginny couldn’t help but fall a bit harder.

When she lifted her head to gaze affectionately at the ginger, Luna noticed something not far ahead. Beneath an oak tree, just adjacent to the lake, was a meld of black robes. She cocked her head curiously, observing keenly the motion occurring before her. It was two people- kissing perhaps? She squinted, stepping a bit closer as Ginny tried to follow her gaze. 

“What are you looking at, Luna?” She questioned patiently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

All of a sudden, Luna’s face brightened and beamed excitedly. She let out a shrill gasp, happily bouncing from foot to foot as she realized just what- and whom- was ahead of her.

“See, Gin?” She pointed a finger at the two boys. “I told you we weren’t the only ones!”

Ginny lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she too began to unravel the mystery before them. When the blonde removed himself from the other figure and sat nearby, Ginny’s other hand cupped her open mouth. Recognization kicked in immediately.

“Oh, Luna!” She cried. “You were right. We’re not as much an anomaly as I thought.”

“Aren’t they just perfect together? I never thought I’d see the day that those two would overlook the past. And yet, here they are. It’s just beautiful, isn’t it?” Luna’s airy realization hung between them, causing Ginny’s heart to skip a beat. She smiled softly, placing a hand around Luna’s waist.

“You’re beautiful.” The words were a whisper, hushed softly against Luna’s neck. Just as delicately, a pink tinge creeped along the surface of Luna’s cheeks. She turned humbly to face the redhead, blue eyes twinkling with affection. Her response was a graceful peck on the cheek, causing Ginny’s freckles to blend rapidly into a bright crimson.

Luna raised a single white daisy and tucked it behind Ginny’s right ear. “Oh, yes,” she stated with a grin. “Daisies on you are just perfect.”


	21. “I told you, Potter, the Fat Lady has a thing for me.”

Dumbledore’s Army took a break from meeting that evening as almost all of its members had parchments due the next day. Six o’clock found Harry relaxing in the common room, feet propped on the sofa comfortably. He should’ve been working on his potions essay, but memories of Draco and promises of forever were flooding his thoughts distractedly.

And that hand, rested upon his thigh, sliding upward and coming so close... Harry felt himself twitch with desire. Fuck, if his thoughts continued on this path, he’d have to disappear to the washroom for a while.

Ron was in the corner attempting to study with Hermione, far too absorbed to make conversation. They hadn’t spoken much since their most recent argument, but the air lacked the animosity Ron had once held. He was definitely coming around, Harry observed hopefully, and soon enough he figured things would work themselves out.

He glanced around the room to find most of the common room studiously focused on essays or N.E.W.T preparation. Restlessly, his eyes darted to the fire place, then the ceiling, and even to the floor, Draco’s face appearing in every crack and corner they rested on. Exasperatedly, he shut the open book beside him and gave up on his attempts at potion work. As much as he wanted to sneak out, stalk to the dungeons and ravish Draco right then and there, he thought better of the idea.

He knew that the Slytherins were not on the best terms with his mate, and any attempts at sneaking to the dungeons would do nothing but irritate the situation. Unfortunately, he had no easy way of communicating to Draco that he desperately wanted to meet him in the Room of Requirement. Now.

With an audible sigh, he gathered his things and headed up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory.

“Done already, mate?” The voice belonged to a Weasley, and Harry turned at the sudden conversation between them.

“Nah, I can’t focus. I’m headed to bed.”

Ron looked at Hermione, who shrugged. “Alright. I’ll be up there in a while.”

Harry nodded in response, treading each step exhaustedly. When he approached his four poster, he crawled in to sheets that were far too inviting. He wasn’t planning on falling asleep, but somehow the inevitable occurred. He drifted off into a deep slumber and dreamt of Draco Malfoy.

&&&

The Slytherin common room was quiet. It hadn’t been, actually, until Draco entered. One step in, and a sharp silence befell the room that he felt immediately. Glares were cast cruelly in his direction, Pansy at the center, leading the tirade. Blaise didn’t even glance in his direction, pretending to be absorbed in an issue of the Daily Prophet. Apparently sitting at the Gryffindor table was an unforgivable sin in Slytherin territory.

Without a word, Draco frustratedly stalked to the dormitory. He had a right to be there; after all, it was his common room. He’d been sorted a snake when he was 11, and nothing could change that... right?

He took a seat on the bed, wishing that he had a DA meeting to attend. Anywhere would be better than here, he regarded restlessly. He ruminated on possibilities of escape, but decided against every one of them. It was far too close to curfew to leave the common room; any one of the bloody traitors down there would turn him in purely out of spite. And so he sat anxiously, itching to be with Harry. Lying back, he closed the curtains and decided to close his eyes. Flashes of scenes from earlier, of kisses and smiles and laughs, played in a romantic montage across each shut lid. Draco wasn’t able to tell the difference as thoughts turned to dreams of Harry Potter. He smiled in his sleep.

&&&

It was dark. Disoriented, Draco allowed his eyes to adjust to the lack of light in the room. The dungeons typically remained shadowed in comparison to the rest of the castle, but not a single shred of light was visible. Tiredly, Draco concluded that more time had passed than he originally had planned. He opened the curtain slightly, grabbing his wand from the night stand and noticing that the other beds were full of sleeping Slytherins. It was later than he thought.

He cast a Tempus charm to check the time. The wand pointed just past 11 o’clock. Late enough, he thought, but not too late to escape. He’d had a nap that left him energized and ready to get the fuck out of there. Still clothed from earlier, he slipped on his shoes and snuck around the others. He knew exactly where he was going. He just hoped he wouldn’t be caught along the way.

&&&

“Psssst! Harry!”

Harry let out a groan. His dreams were so real sometimes; he swore he could hear Draco’s voice.

“Wake up!” Wake up? Why would he do that? Here, in this reality, Draco was standing next to his bed. There was nowhere else he’d rather be. He smiled, mumbling to himself: “mmm...Draco...”

“Yes! It’s me, you prat! Open your eyes!” The voice was hushed but sharp. Huh? What was going on? Harry opened his eyes to see a shadow standing over him. Immediately reacting on instinct, he sprung up and grabbed his wand.

“Whoa, whoa! Harry, relax! It’s me!”

“Draco?” He lowered his wand, reality setting in around him.

“Yes! Keep your voice down. Your friends are sleeping.”

Harry grabbed his glasses and examined the shape before him. “Draco.” He smiled from ear to ear, still slightly dazed from sleep.

Draco returned the grin. “You’re cute when you’re half asleep, you know.”

Harry cocked his head, coming to his senses more by the minute. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

“Please, Harry. We’ve been through this. The Fat Lady has a thing for me. Now, are you going to invite me in?”

Harry chuckled, confused but grateful for his presence. He scooted over, patting the bed in a subtle invitation. Draco climbed in, kicking off his shoes and wriggling beneath the sheets next to Harry.

“Hang on.” Harry sat up, closing the curtains and casting a few silencing charms. He followed this with a “Lumos.”

“Draco, I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know how you keep managing to break into our common room but I don’t care.” A look of pure happiness was cast upon his face.

“Well, it wasn’t so easy. I tried the first stair case I saw, thinking it was your dormitory. Halfway up and the stairs turned into a bloody slide.” He rolled his eyes, and Harry laughed heartily.

“You tried to enter the girl’s dormitory. That’s what happens.”

“I figured as much. We don’t need traps like that in the dungeons. The doors are warded with hexes instead.” He winked, and Harry shivered. Thank God he was gay, he muttered to himself. He couldn’t imagine trying to do what Draco had done, only to end up cursed or hexed irreparably. It was Draco’s turn to laugh at Harry’s reaction. He softened immediately.

“So, what brings you to my bed in the middle of the night?” He leaned forward slightly, interest piquing at the possibilities.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” The response was reactionary, instinctive. Harry was the one person he could speak to without contemplating and planning each word.

“Me neither.”

Draco didn’t speak, allowing a very different kind of silence to envelope. This wasn’t the sharp and reclusive silence of the Slytherins. Harry’s quiet was anticipatory, fragile, and soft. It was love, wrapped minutely in the unspoken bond hovering mid-air. Draco instinctively felt his face inch forward, lusting for a taste of the boy before him.

Their noses touched, brushing back and forth affectionately. Without further thought or consideration, Draco tilted his head and joined his face to Harry’s. His mouth was warm and inviting and, oh, open, and Draco felt himself lurch inside. Harry didn’t hesitate to fully consume him, joining their tongues and releasing all of his pent up tension with each kiss.

He felt a surge of hormones building inside of him, burning with a fire that caused his cock to swell. How could something as simple as a kiss do so much to his body?

Draco felt Harry stiffen and knew that things were getting heated. He placed a hand on his jaw, pulling him closer, holding nothing back between them.

“Mmm, Harry...” his voice was flushed between kisses that were on fire, heat rising and blazing from down below.

Unable to take the burn, Draco placed his hands on Harry’s waist and in one fluid motion slipped his body beneath his own. He sat up briefly, removing his shirt and then pressing himself downward between Harry’s suspended legs. His prick was stiff against Harry’s and a groan escaped his throat at the contact.

Harry’s hands found either side of Draco’s neck and pulled him downward until they were flush once more. Subconsciously, Draco felt his hips thrust forward in rhythm with their kissing.

Several twisted moans sounded from Harry’s throat, and he ran his hands along Draco’s bare back. Reaching his waist, Harry tucked his fingers into the lining of his pants and slid them around to the front. Draco lapped at Harry’s mouth with his tongue, which was warm and sweet and tasted like fresh mint. Harry felt his breath hinge, unable to cope with the rush of hormones flooding his body. God,Draco was so perfect... 

His fingers fumbled with the zipper and button, eventually opening them to reveal Draco’s heather gray shorts underneath. Draco returned the favor, separating momentarily to slide Harry’s shirt over his head. They were both panting, huffing lustfully and unable to fully catch breath.

Draco took a moment to run his palms along Harry’s bare chest, shivering at the feel of the skin beneath his touch. Harry felt himself both relax and tighten inexplicably as Draco’s fingers ran along each surface. He needed him, fully, once more. His brain was cloudy with thoughts and feelings and burning, Merlin, an irrefutable longing that refused to be quenched.

Draco’s fingers reached the hem of Harry’s jeans and began to yank them downward without hesitation. He hadn’t even bothered to undo them, the passionate desire to have them off overpowering all else.

Harry lifted his own hands to pull Draco’s pants down the rest of the way. draco finished by kicking them off hastily and then he was pressing against Harry again and there was absolutely nothing better than this in existence. Chest against chest, their bodies were entangled in an embrace that could only be described by love.

Draco’s hands were threaded within Harry’s hair, pulling and tugging and it hurt slightly but Harry didn’t care. He was too consumed by Draco weaving in and out of his mouth, tongues tied and lips swollen from snogging.

“Let me make love to you, Harry. Let me give you what you’ve given me.”

Harry nodded, desiring nothing else. Nothing else mattered in the whole damned world except for the two of them in this moment. The next thing that occurred was two pairs of shorts falling seamlessly to the floor. Draco remained on top, thrusting his pelvis fearlessly against Harry’s. The motion was enough to make Harry cry out, and he was more than grateful for the silencing charms. God, he was good, Draco was so, so good...

Pre-cum lubricated areas that were once dry, areas that were now red and swollen and longing. Draco reached a hand between Harry’s legs until he found his hole. He brushed his finger around the rim, a soft and ticklish sensation that had Harry crying in fits of sexual desire. “Please, Draco,” he caught himself pleading, too far gone to care. His pride was equally matched by Draco’s soft whimpers of pleasure each time their dicks touched. The truth was, there was no dominance here, no need to be tough or coy. He could beg Draco to touch him, and the only negative effect would be Harry’s building desire threatening to burst between them.

“Do you have...?” Harry asked shyly, remembering how this had gone in reverse.

Draco nodded. The next few minutes consisted of fingers, sleek and thick and dripping with jelly widening and preparing Harry for what was to come.

There were groans and gasps and shrieks of pleasure. Draco smiled and although he was pleased with himself he decided that nothing was better than giving pleasure to Harry. Receiving was great, but that look on Harry’s face... the way he bit his lip and clenched his eyes shut, the soft, appreciative sounds escaping from deep within his throat, the way his emerald eyes were glassy with want... it was everything Draco needed.

He removed himself, Harry writhing and pleading and begging for more. Draco kissed him softly, fervently, hungrily. And just when Harry wondered if he could take anymore foreplay, Draco positioned himself against him.

It hurt at first. Not a lot, but enough to sting. Harry wondered for a split second if he would be able to continue. But as Draco inched foreword cautiously, concern painted across silver irises, pain turned to immense pleasure. He wasn’t sure what Draco was doing, or how he was doing it, but it was the best damned feeling in the world. Maybe it was because wherever that spot was, he was hitting it just right. Or maybe it was because the expression of sheer ecstasy on his face was beautiful and perfect. Or maybe it was the fact that his body was flush with his own, a connection that even magic couldn’t touch.

Harry felt himself press into the pillows, and even the soft cotton against his cheeks was too much stimulation. Everything was tingling from head to foot, and he wondered how much longer he would last like this. Draco was moving in, out, in, out, causing a friction that made every nerve in his body both tighten and relax simultaneously. His dick was hard as could be, rubbing repeatedly against the flesh of Draco’s stomach. 

“Draco...” he breathed headily, and Draco could taste the word on his lips. He closed the gap between them, pressing himself deeper into Harry, as far as he could go, holding nothing back emotionally or physically and God, he could feel himself so close to orgasm...

“I love you.” Draco brushed Harry’s tousled black hair from his forehead, gazing into a sea of emerald. He paused, fully inside, as far as one could go, and Harry could take it no longer.

“Ah, Draco. I love you... I love you so much... I can’t... I’m going to...” 

“It’s ok, love. Feel good, please, I want you to feel so good...” Draco was on the verge himself, pulsing and radiating with red heat.

Harry gasped, mouth dropped in absolute pleasure as he coated the space between them.

Draco felt Harry’s orgasm drape his stomach, and the knowledge of his full blown ecstasy alone was enough to push him over the edge. He retracted slightly and, with a final thrust, felt himself riding the waves of his own climax.

Harry could sense Draco filling him, leaving no room inside for anything except himself, and Merlin, this is how he always wanted it to be... and then there were a pair of lips brushing across his own, and he arched to meet them closely, to mesh with them and make them his own.

“Mmm... love you, Harry.” Draco smiled, and he felt his insides twist and drop and melt into a warm, fluid sensation that spread throughout his being.

“I love you more.” Harry propped himself onto his forearms, and Draco pulled out while muttering a quick cleaning spell that vanished all evidence. Lying next to him, Draco turned to Harry with a dreamy expression that reflected just how lucky he felt to be there.

“Impossible, Potter. Absolutely impossible.” His closed lips bent into a shy smile as he gathered Harry into his arms.

“Thank you,” he whispered, snuggling further into Draco’s embrace. “For everything you’ve given me.”

“I can’t give you a tenth of what you’ve given me, Harry. But if it’s any resolution... you’re welcome.” He flashed a haughty grin, playfully sarcastic. It was one of the many aspects of Draco that Harry couldn’t help but fall in love with. That stupid git, with his stupid smirk... He chuckled lightly at the familiar thought pattern and everything that had changed about it. 

“Come on,” he said after settling. “Let’s get dressed before one of these fellows wakes up and catches us. Ron might literally die if he walked in on this.”

Draco snickered. “I almost wish he would.”

&&&

“Headmaster, I need to speak with you. It’s urgent. I assure you that I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t absolutely imperative. Please allow me a moment of your time.”

Dumbledore stood at the fireplace located in the far corner of his office, scratching his beard as he listened to the voice traveling through the floo network.

“Of course. I will open the floo. You may come in.” Dumbledore murmured the password, which was some type of candy assortment, and stepped back patiently.

For a moment, all was still. The fireplace crackled and popped as any logs would, but then they began to hiss and cry with increasing temperature. The flames flushed blue and then bright green before a single foot stepped from amongst the ashes.

Dumbledore smiled welcomely, as he would to any visitor stepping politely into his office. As the rest of the body emerged, Albus raised both hands in greeting.

“Narcissa Malfoy. What a pleasure.”


	22. Extendable Ears

“So... which time was better?” Draco teased coquettishly, arching his eyebrows at his mate. They were lying on the bed together, giggling and playing like kids re-united on the playground. The silencing charms seemed to be holding, for the moment anyway.

Memories of their first time flashed through Harry’s mind in a sweet, lustful succession. He could see them undressing each other, and Draco leading him to the bed, and then they were making love and oh...

A wistful smile played at the edge of Harry’s lips. “Neither. Both times were absolutely perfect. What about you?”

Draco stopped, thoughts dipping to the Room of Requirement. Of Harry perched on top of him, breaking him free in more ways than one. Of kisses and tongues and hands in all the right places. Of a blazing fire and talks of home and there was a cabinet in the corner...

Draco sat straight up in a motion so quick that Harry’s head was reeling. His breath had quickened, eyes were darting around as thoughts turned to connections and then to answers.

“What is it, Draco? What’s wrong?” Harry placed a delicate hand on his shoulder before he swung around sharply.

“We have to go to Dumbledore. Now.” He was still distant, disconnectedly joining dots that Harry couldn’t see.

“Why? Draco? What are you thinking?” He was worried now, concern elevating to fear.

“The cabinet. Do you remember the vanishing cabinet, Harry?” His voice was rushed and heated; Harry nodded as the now present pit in his stomach expanded.

“Voldemort. He doesn’t need to penetrate the warding to get into the castle. He could... he could fucking get in through the cabinet!”

Harry’s eyes were wide with a mixture of understanding and resolute fear. “We’ve got to do something, Draco.”

“Come on,” He grasped his hand, yanking him from the sheets. Just as he was about to stand, however, the sound of footsteps could be heard from the doorway. Their heads snapped toward the entrance, unprepared for what was to come. All at once, the door opened. Both mouths dropped at what they saw.

&&&

“I had to come, Albus. I had to.” Narcissa’s hands were shaking. She looked as if she might break at any moment, her entire figure fragile and maimed.

“It’s ok, my dear. Take a seat.” Dumbledore took his spot behind the desk; Narcissa nervously perched herself before him. She restlessly tangled her hands, then untangled them, fidgeting apprehensively.

“What did you come here to tell me, Mrs. Malfoy?” Dumbledore laced his fingers and placed them calmly on the desk. He had a way of relaxing the situation, calming the tide regardless of the size of the storm. There was a tranquil air about the room that gave Narcissa Malfoy the courage to speak.

“They’re coming. Voldemort’s Death Eaters. They’ve found a way into the castle. They want you dead, Albus. They’re coming for you... and for- and for my Draco.” She glanced down at her feet, as if she feared being beaten for exposing such secrets. When she did meet eyes with Albus Dumbledore, several stray tears found their places running down each cheek.

“When, my dear?” His eyes were concerned, but collected, planning his next move methodically.

“Tonight.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, turning ideas into reality with the outspokenness of the word.

“Who is leading them?” Albus didn’t flinch, but stroked his beard thoughtfully.

Narcissa winced, almost afraid to speak the name aloud. “My husband.”

He nodded once, contemplating his own strategy. Standing up, he confidently took a step forward after making up his mind.

“Come, Narcissa. We must find the boys at once.” She nodded curtly, rising from her seat.

“I’ll head to the dungeons.”

“That won’t be necessary, my dear. Follow me. Well head to Gryffindor tower.” He began striding toward the exit.

“What about Draco, sir?” Narcissa worriedly rushed in his direction.

“Not to worry, madam. I have a hunch that we won’t have to look much farther for your son.”

Mrs. Malfoy blushed as she trailed behind him with anticipation. After learning what she had about her son recently, there was little doubt in her mind that the old wizard was indeed correct.

&&&

“Professor!” Harry cried as the sight of the elderly man rang before him. Draco threw back the curtains, dissipating what remained of the silencing charms.

“We need to speak with you!” Draco pressed urgently, uncaring of the compromising position he’d been found in.  
Beside him, several Gryffindors began to wake.

“I know, Draco. We both need to speak to one another. But first, there’s someone who would like to see you.” Dumbledore stepped aside to reveal Mrs. Malfoy, who in all of her concern looked as if she was about to cry.

Draco’s jaw physically dropped. Harry gripped a hand around his arm protectively.

“Mother.” It was hushed, a barely audible proclamation that Harry knew to mean self-doubt.

“What in the bloody- sorry Professor- what is going on here?” Ron sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and trying to process the scene in front of him.

“Ron!” Harry almost shouted defensively, believing that he had underestimated the seriousness of the situation.

“He has a point.” Draco said softly, gazing at his mother with a mixture of pain and longing.

“How did he end up in our dormitory? And what is he DOING in it?” Ron didn’t seem to mind that Mrs. Malfoy was in the midst of their conversation one bit.

“You don’t want him to answer that,” piped Seamus, who had just rolled over to join in. Both Harry and Draco flushed crimson.

“Boys, boys, calm down.” Dumbledore directed his attention to the other side of the room, and Narcissa took a step toward Draco.

“I hope you’ll forgive me when you learn the reason that I’m here.” She was solemn, and Harry could sense the authenticity behind her words.

He nodded, giving her the unarticulated chance she desired.

“Harry. Draco.” Dumbledore turned to them. “Let us go downstairs. We have important matters to discuss. The rest of you, try to go back to sleep. I do sincerely apologize for waking you.”

The boys didn’t speak as they watched the four leave. As soon as the door closed, they immediately gathered on Ron’s bed in a makeshift huddle.

“Something must be very wrong.” Neville observed, and Dean nodded.

“Why the hell else would Dumbledore come here at this forsaken hour? And what was Draco’s mom doing with him?”

“Whatever the reason, we’ve got to figure it out.” Seamus added, and Ron’s face brightened.

“I’ve got it!” He shrieked, hopping up and scurrying to his trunk. He rummaged through the belongings, tossing a few items aside before they heard a “found em!” He returned bearing a legacy splayed between both hands.

“Bloody hell, Ron! They let you keep them!” Seamus exclaimed excitedly.

“Not exactly.” Ron grinned mischievously. “I nicked them off of George before they left to open the joke shop.” He strung out the pair of extendable ears for the entire group to see.

“Well, come on with it!” Dean said hurriedly, and the group rushed to the door to get started on the eavesdropping.  
Carefully, Ron slipped one of the ears beneath the door and begun running thread through his fingers, adjusting the length just so as the ear dropped silently off of the ledge outside the dormitory. The group crowded uncomfortably around the remaining ear, giving Ron minor instructions as to “pull in,” and “let out,” the string for the best reception. What they heard next was, to put it quite simply, an earful.

&&&

“Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy. We have a situation on our hands.”

Draco and Harry stood arm to arm facing the Headmaster and Mrs. Malfoy.

“Mrs. Malfoy has informed me that the timeline given us by your father has been changed.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Sir! They can get in! Harry and I, we figured it out! We...” Something about the expression on Dumbledore’s face caused Draco to lose his words, instead gulping and finishing with a worried “when?”

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. “Tonight.”

“We don’t have much time, boys.” Narcissa’s hands were open before her, instead of folded politely in her lap like that usually stayed submissively.

“You came here... to warn us?” Draco speculated, confused but warming. She nodded wildly, obviously afraid of the consequences ahead. “You know what he’ll do to you, mom.” His eyes were hot with tears and anger and an irrefutable desire for justice. “You think Dad cares about my well being? He’ll call you a traitor!” He pointed an index finger in her direction, tears silently escaping down his cheeks. 

Harry laced their fingers, and Draco turned to look at their hands before returning his gaze to his mother frightfully.

“I know, Draco. I know about Harry. About all of this.” She took a step forward reassuringly. Draco’s face was haunted, scared beyond his wits.

“How would you know!? How in the hell would you know, Mother!?” If she knew, he could only bet on who had told her, and the answer to that would be... lethal.

“I’m not the only one who knows, Draco. But I am the only one who’s not against it.” Silver irises softened as the words took meaning. She stepped toward them once more, arms extended.

“Draco.” She then addressed the black haired boy before her, who was gripping her son much too tightly. “Harry.”

Harry’s expression was blank. He was unsure of whether to trust her after all she’d stepped aside and allowed to happen to her son. To the boy he loved so deeply. Her gaze moved back and forth between the couple.

“Nothing is worth losing you. Losing you both. You’re my son, Draco, and I’ve been a terrible mother. I...I drew the line tonight. I won’t stand idly while he hurts you. While he hurts all of us in the name of the Dark Lord.” Her own tears were spilling, a trait uncharacteristic of any Black or Malfoy before her. Without a word from either, Narcissa Malfoy lunged foreword and gathered both of them into an embrace that was awkward but unexpectedly whole. Harry felt Draco relax beside him and allowed his own walls to crumble, happy to be included in this family’s reunification. Draco was HIS family now, and it only made sense for Narcissa to join their circle. Especially if she was willing to sacrifice her life to keep Draco safe.

Harry smiled to himself, hugging each of them back fully. The world seemed to be giving out lots of surprises as of late.

“It is so wonderful to see you reconcile!” Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in a truly delighted fashion. “I’ve sent a patronus to all of the teaching staff. They should be gathering their resources shortly. Now, boys. Where is this entrance you speak of?”

Simultaneously, Harry and Draco spoke: “The Room of Requirement.” Harry felt Draco squeeze his hand at the sentiment.

“Narcissa.” Dumbledore turned to Draco’s mother, formulating. “How much time do you believe we have?”

“Not much,” she spoke honestly. “They were headed to Knockturn Alley when I came to you. I unfortunately have not been told much else.”

Dumbledore nodded. At that moment, the portrait hole opened to reveal Minerva McGonagall with a stern but worried look upon her face.

“Albus, I got your message. What else needs to be done?” Her skin was pulled especially tight over her forehead; brow creased with anxiousness.

“If you would please gather the students into the Great Hall, Minerva. It will be safer that way.”

“Yes, of course. I will collaborate with the other Heads of Houses.” With that, she exited the portrait hole with the intent of returning shortly.

&&&

“We’re not going to the Great Hall, are we?” Neville was the first to speak, the group still huddled intently around the extendable ear.

“Hell no.” Seamus and Dean answered identically, giving a mischievous grin and a nod at the profound bond they shared.

“Let’s get the coins,” Ron stated, an idea forming from his red head. “I saw Hermione spell them once. I bet I can do it again. We’ve got to warn the rest of the Army.”

They each retrieved their galleons, and Ron held his at arm length while pointing his wand concentratedly. His eyes were narrowed, squinting with a focus harder than he’d ever given. The vein on the middle of his head was popping profusely; his lip curled as he attempted to direct his magical energy. The others shared an anticipatory glance, wondering if Ron would be able to pull off Hermione’s spell.

When the etchings began to illuminate into a fiery red that blended and molded to form a message, their faces relaxed. Upon each coin were the burnt, glowing traces of the words “Death Eaters have infiltrated. Meet on the 7th floor. What we’ve been training for.”

Soon after, the other galleons began to reflect the same writing. There were excited grins exchanged among the group, Seamus giving Ron a curt pat on the back for his success.

“You did it, mate!” Neville beamed proudly, placing his coin into the pocket of his pajamas. Ron appeared happier in this moment than he’d been in weeks. Things were finally turning around, it seemed. They’d just have to make it through tonight.

&&&

“This way, this way! Prefects, keep your houses together! Everyone into the Great Hall at once!” McGonagall’s voice boomed throughout the corridor as hordes of students descended staircases and flooded the halls of the castle.

“Ravenclaw, stay together! Keep tight, we don’t want to lose anyone!” Professor Flitwick’s chorus of instruction could be heard beneath McGonnagal’s. The only head of house who was not directing their students was Severus Snape, who appeared to be eerily absent. Nonetheless, the Slytherins were in toe, bustling and pushing past the others with concern for their own safety.

No one had been informed of the reason for their gathering, but rumors were flying faster than the most recent Firebolt model.

“It’s the Slytherins! They’ve got something to do with it!” Accused an exasperated Hufflepuff, who was immediately elbowed by Theodore Nott.

“Don’t you think if we had any part in this we wouldn’t be pushing past the rest of you!?”

Similar confrontations erupted among the other houses, everyone quick to point fingers but inherently clueless.

Stories ranged from Dumbledore being killed by a werewolf to the Slytherins summoning back the ghost of Grindelwald to take over the school. Meanwhile, everyone shuffled into the Hall and was placed at their respective tables.

In all of the commotion, no one seemed to notice the inconspicuous disappearance of several Hogwarts students. There were many missing from the Gryffindor table, along with a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Even more surprising was the absence of several Slytherins, whose location for the moment was unknown.

&&&

“Okay, guys, now!” Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville were trailing the rest of the Gryffindors on the path to the Great Hall. Ron was apparently leading them, and the idea was intoxicating. He’d always dreamed of being a hero, and this was his opportunity. For himself. For Harry. And, most importantly, for a certain bushy-haired girl he’d had a crush on for far too long.

The quartet ducked behind a nearby corridor, thankfully missed by none of the others. Emotions were running high, a spirit of chaos possessing the preoccupied crowd ahead. Ron peered around the stone wall, grateful to see the remaining Gryffindors disperse into the Great Hall without a blink in their direction. He heaved a sigh of relief.

“Okay. I nicked Harry’s invisibility cloak from his trunk. Neville and Dean will take the cloak; Seamus and I will lead. Don’t fall behind.” Soon after, Neville and Dean had disappeared beneath the sheer fabric.

“Hey guys,” Ron remarked as he checked the hall one last time for any stragglers. “Have you seen Hermione?”

&&&

The crowd was bustling, pushing and shoving toward the entrance to the Great Hall. Hermione clutched her pocket tightly, clinging to her galleon with purpose. Things were chaotic, and she noticed several physical altercations break amongst the students that attracted the attention of the other prefects. Perfect, she noted, and took the opportunity to shove through the sea of black robes in the opposite direction. She knew of a back staircase, one that wasn’t so far and was mildly concealed that would lead her to the 7th floor.

She’d kept her eyes peeled for Ron and the others to no avail. Even Ginny was mysteriously absent, and she wondered if she’d bailed sooner. And where in the world was Harry? Draco? Were they together? For their own sakes, she hoped so. For the moment, she would be just fine her on her own.


	23. Fear & Darkness

“Ernie! Did you get it?” Hannah’s voice was subtle as she and Susan approached the door to the boy’s dormitory. The Hufflepuff quarters lacked hexes, slides, or other safe guards. The damn Puffs were so trustworthy that no one bothered with tricks. The idea was that they’d be polite enough to knock, which is exactly what the girls were doing.

There was a crack as Macmillan’s nose peered from around the door. Realizing who had approached, he sighed with relief and opened the door to emerge fully clothed. “I was hoping it was you. Let’s get out of here before they start rounding up the students.”

Together, the trio exited the common room without so much as a lumos. They remained arm in arm, stepping daintily from refuge to hiding spot in an attempt to remain unseen. It would be a long trip to the 7th floor, but with a little bit of luck and a whole lot of friendship, perhaps they would have a chance.

&&&

Ginny had always lived beneath the shadow of 6 older brothers. Tonight, however, she was on her own. She’d noticed her galleon reflect luminously against the darkness of her dormitory and knew she’d had little time before the inevitable occurred and she’d lose her chance to escape. She prayed that Hermione and the others would find a way, but for the time being, she knew she’d have little chance to stop. She snuck past her sleeping roommates, wand armed and ready. The common room was empty, but the fire burned bright. Someone had been there not long before her.

With a quick glance back to make sure she was alone, she crawled through the portrait hole and headed toward the 7th floor.

&&&

“Did you hear that?” Hannah paused, sticking her neck around the latest cove they’d perched behind.

“It sounds like stomping.” Susan observed, eyes searching for the source.

“It’s a herd,” Ernie whispered. “Of students. They must be gathering together. I wonder if they’ve noticed us missing.”

Hannah nodded, checking around the corner once more. The sound was distant; they’d be okay for now. Suddenly, however, there was a closer noise, the pitter-patter of foot steps nearing their location. Hannah gasped, and the three turned abruptly as the sound was coming from behind.

“Shhh!” Approaching was none other than Ginny Weasley, a finger raised to her lips as she strained to make out the source of the distant clomping. Macmillan let out the breath he’d been holding, and Susan’s shoulders relaxed visibly.

“Ginny, I’m so glad it’s you.” Hannah greeted steadily, and Ginny’s lips quirked into a grin.

“Have you seen any of the others?”

The Puffs shook their heads, and Ginny’s face fell. Hannah smiled softly, extending a hand to place it on the surface of her slumped shoulder.

“Im sure Luna’s fine,” she consoled, and Ginny flushed. Maybe they were a bit more obvious together than she’d intended. Or maybe Hannah just thought that they were really, really good friends. With the knowing, still kind expression on Hannah’s face, however, she highly doubted that.

“Come on, guys. We don’t have time to lose.” And with that, Ginny led the way to the seventh floor.

&&&

“The stair case is going to shift any minute. Come on!” Ron whispered sharply to the others. Neville and Dean were trailing especially slow, trying to step in sync so as not to lose the cloak.

They were mid-way across the stretch of steps when their bridge-like path started to change, switching destinations without warning.

“Fuck!” Cried Seamus, who, like the others, lacked the knowledge of an alternate route to the Room of Requirement. When the staircase came to a halt on a deserted floor, the four hurriedly hopped on and glanced around, lost.

Ron’s eyes stretched the scene before him, pouring in the intricacies of the castle as he combined details into a makeshift map within his psyche. Not far ahead was an opening in the wall which appeared to spiral upward. Ron pointed ahead and the others followed, taking off in a sprint toward the alternate route. As soon as they hopped hastily onto the first of many concrete steps, everything came to a sudden halt.

Ron turned to glance worriedly at Seamus, who he could barely make out beside him. Somehow, somewhere, someone had performed some very dark magic. The staircase had up until this moment been lit by an array of candles magically fixated to burn permanently along the walls. Suddenly, each and every one of them had burned out. Darkness consumed them.

&&&

Hermione had reached the top of her secret pathway, skipping steps that clicked against her Mary Jane’s. This was it, the 7th floor, and one corridor over was the Room of Requirement. She slid her back warily against the cool stone wall, wand drawn and ready. Eyes glued forward, her breath was shaky and restless in her throat. She inched ahead, trailing down the corridor slowly. When the spelled candlelight flickered once, she froze. At once, she knew that the enemy was upon them. And still, she was alone.

&&&

“Lumos.” Ron held his wand steady in front, leading the way up each step. Dean and Neville managed to fumble their way upwards without losing the cloak, and Seamus determinedly jogged his way. They must’ve been ascending several floors, and Ron wondered if he’d made a mistake in leading them here. But just as he was about to suggest they turn back, a weak yet audible whimper sounded from not much farther ahead. Ron’s senses sharpened as he felt a shocked sensation trickle from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. Eyes widened, he stared forward through the darkness. His legs wouldn’t move, though he knew he needed them to. His own voice ejected a weak whine as Seamus tugged his arm to continue: “Her-Hermione...” 

&&&

Hermione let out a subtle gasp as the once flickering candle lights came to a sudden darkness. She inched her way along the wall, blind but determined. The Hall was utterly silent, the only sound that could be heard was the soft brush of her body against the wall.

She wasn’t sure exactly why, but a creeping sensation found itself tucked deep within her gut. It seemed to spread outward, wrapping around each nerve in a tentacle-like fashion. She slowed her gait, cautiously trusting her instinct and keeping her wand pointed forward. Inch by inch, she crawled along the wall until she felt her stomach lurch. Something wasn’t right. She could tell by the way the hairs on the back of her neck and posterior arms were standing. The only question was: what?

She was soon answered by the warmth of a hot, sticky breath infecting the space behind her ear. She froze, unable to move a centimeter with the unexpected company trailing her back.

“Don’t. Move.” The voice was a low growl, threatening in more ways than one. Hermione wasn’t stupid; she knew that the being behind her was no average death eater.

“Werewolf.” She proclaimed, but didn’t dare move a muscle.

“That’s right, sweetheart.” She could tell by the ghoulish tone to his voice that he was smiling. His breath stank, and she gulped as a sudden fear took its hold on her. She wondered if he was going to kill her right then and there.

There was a pause, a moment of stillness that reeked of unbathed creature and anxiety. Hermione let out a yelp as she felt two strong, unforgiving hands grasp her shoulders and slam her against the wall she’d just been hugging. Her head throbbed from its sudden contact with the stone, and for a moment everything was blurry.

In the distance, she swore she saw a light. Perhaps she was hallucinating, feverish from the recent head injury. The far off glow was just enough to illuminate the roughened face before her.

“Fenrir Grayback,” she stated through the pain. “I’ve seen you in the Daily Prophet.”

Greyback paused, drawing in a whiff of Hermione before responding: “Mudblood. I can smell it.”

He inclined his head, closing the distance between himself and her throat. “You’re right, you know.” He whispered against the hollow base of her neck. “I’m famous. And you’re going to taste just fine.” Hermione’s breath quickened, chest heaving as she realized she had nowhere to turn to. Her wand was clutched tightly in her right hand, sandwiched between her body and the wall she was pinned against. She tried as a last attempt to focus, to do wordless magic, to no avail. She was trapped, and fear had consumed her.

“Stupefy!” Hermione snapped up at the familiarity of the voice behind Greyback. The light, it wasn’t imaginary! It was real, ever so real. Hermione felt herself relax slightly.

Immediately, Greyback faltered, keeping one hand against Hermione but stumbling clumsily. Ron’s face was horrified as the man, instead of tumbling backward or falling, straightened.

“Ron, he’s a werewolf! It’s going to take a lot of magic to stun him!” She cried, letting out a squeal as he tightened his grip.

“Why, you little...” Greyback removed himself from Hermione and began stamping in the direction of the redhead. Shocked, Hermione found herself frozen as she collected the scene before her.

“Ron!” She shrieked, but Greyback was already lifting his arm to swipe at the boy, who was backing up but not nearly fast enough. The next moment was another blur.

Somehow, in a sudden, swift movement, Fenrir Greyback had fallen face first onto the floor. He was immobilized, lying phenomenally still as a fearful Ron tried to gain his bearings. Hermione was only partially aware of the additional voices in the vicinity echoing softly in a combined spell. Out of the shadows stepped Seamus, followed by a wave of the air as Neville and Dean unveiled themselves from beneath the cloak.

Hermione gasped. “Guys! You did it! You just took on a bloody werewolf!” She hurriedly lurched forward, throwing her arms around Ron. His lips quirked into a satisfied smile, still coming to terms with what had happened but wrapping Hermione in his arms all the same. “We did, didn’t we?” He muttered happily, and Hermione’s hold on him tightened.

“Not to interrupt the moment or anything,” piped Neville, “but shouldn’t we find the others?” The remaining three all had their wands lit, illuminating the corridor subtly.

Hermione blushed with a wry smile and separated herself. “Come on,” she led, grasping Ron’s hand and pulling him with her. “They’ve got to be nearby.”


	24. Pansy, Blaise, & The Dark Mark

They treaded the hallway quietly. Apart from Greyback, it appeared that all unwanted company had vanished for the moment. Hermione and Ron led the way, fingers laced together in both a protective and affectionate manner. Attempting to remain unseen, the Gryffindors vanished all wand light and continued forward at a deliberate but heedful pace. Seamus itched with anticipation.

“There! Did you hear that?” Neville’s hushed tone of urgency broke the pattern of their footsteps. The group fell silent, all coming to a solid halt as Neville gestured ahead blindly. “I heard steps! On the right, there up ahead.”

The group turned their attention in the general direction he spoke of, attempting to focus in an infinite sea of darkness. Wands were drawn forward, preparing stealthily for another Werewolf or Death Eater or whatever dark forces were ahead. The anticipation was tangible; Hermione’s breath caught in her throat with a scratch while Neville’s wand trembled. The seconds dragged on in an eternal scrutiny as the boy questioned his own sanity. Had, amongst everything, his own senses betrayed him?

Ron squinted, attempting to make out shapes in the opaque obscurity that was surrounding them. At first, he saw colors, reds and greens dancing across his vision wildly. He snapped his head back and forth suddenly, shaking the mirages from sight as another shape appeared before them. This time, there were no colors, only shadows and vague outlines of what appeared to be two figures northeast of them. Ron released a shallow breath, reluctant to move. He questioned his senses, but his instinct didn’t move. Someone, no somebodies were ahead. He stepped protectively in front of Hermione.

“OOF!” The sound was quiet but audible and almost caused an array of curses to be thrown toward the shadows. Wands lurched forward, mouths opened to speak. And, somehow quite rapidly, Hermione stopped them: “Wait!”

They froze at her command, and she inched forward toward the cry. Ron possessively grabbed her hand; she gave it a reassuring squeeze before pressing onward. She didn’t have to travel much farther before she could easily eavesdrop on the whispered hushes of the two familiars before them.

“Luna, you have got to stop stepping on my heels!” An irritated Cho Chang spat from the void.

“I’m sorry, but the problem is that I can’t see!” The airy retort wrenched a sigh of relief from Hermione.

“Lumos,” she whispered before almost colliding with the girls before her. As soon as the burst of light emanated from the tip of her wand, the shocked and surprised Ravenclaws let out a muffled squeak. Cho’s hand immediately found her heart as she heaved in her startled state.

“Hermione!” Luna was already smiling, as if she was expecting her all along. “You haven’t happened to have seen my Ginny, have you?”

Hermione paused, evaluating what had just been said to her. “No, I haven’t, Luna. We need to find her.” On second thought, she’d file that piece of information away in favor for more pressing matters at hand.

“What about Harry? And the others?” Cho asked innocently. Hermione gestured behind her as the others approached the light. 

“Goddamn, it’s good to see you two,” Seamus commented. “We thought for sure you were Death Eaters.” Dean nodded, relaxing. Neville stiffened next to them.

“And Hannah? Has anyone seen Hannah?”

Cho shook her head remorsefully.

“Harry and Malf- Draco went with Dumbledore before the students were rounded.” Ron answered, informing the Ravenclaws and Hermione of what little news he had to give.

They nodded, and Luna slipped cheerfully behind Hermione to join the group. “I’m ready to fight some more Death Eaters, gang!”

“More!?” Ron asked, turned to face her with a look of blatant disbelief costing his expression.

“Luna was amazing!” Cho spoke up. “A large man, he had his mask on, came up from behind us. He had me at wand point. Luna completely saved my tail!”

Luna shrugged. “All I did was convince nice old Mr. Peeves to cause some chaos. It gave us enough time to get away. It is odd that he was up on this floor, though.” A look of thought crossed her face.

“Don’t forget that you left him tied up with your incarcerous!” Cho added excitedly, her nervousness morphing to confidence at their previous encounter.

“Ah, Yes. He should be down for a while.” Luna’s lips quirked into her most proud yet humble smile; the one Ginny would have kissed right off her face had she been there.

“Great work, guys.” Dean complimented, shuffling forward. “Let’s keep moving.”

&&&

“Do you remember that secret passageway we found while having our annual scavenger hunt?” Susan Bones spoke as they followed the dimly lit corridor.

Hannah stopped suddenly, turning to face her house mate. “Oh my goodness, yes! Susan, how could we not have thought of that sooner?! It leads to each of the floors! And it shouldn’t be much farther ahead!” Susan matched her grin, an air of exuberance resonating between them. Ginny turned to face them, still in the lead, and Ernie listened intently from behind.

“Okay, Okay, hold on. Scavenger hunt?” Ginny questioned skeptically.

Hannah smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “It’s a Hufflepuff thing. Girls vs. boys. We’re particularly good finders, you know.” She winked, and Ginny shook her head while drinking in the excitement.

“I had no idea Hufflepuffs were so adventurous. I always thought secret passages were more of a Gryffindor thing.”

“Hey, Hey, we do know how to have fun. Even if that means adventure.” Macmillan crossed his arms and smirked at the redhead facetiously. With a light chuckle, Ginny mirrored his stance and Hannah, hand in hand with Susan, rushed past them. “This way, guys!”

Ginny let out a sarcastic puff of air. “Led by the Hufflepuffs. Ready?”

Macmillan grinned, accepting Ginny’s flippancy with grace as their friendship seemed to bloom subtly. “I mean, they are good finders. They won the scavenger hunt.” Ginny let out a hushed guffaw as they moved forward.

&&&

Blaise Zabini’s back was aligned flawlessly perpendicular to the wall of the 7th floor. He wasn’t sure exactly what had brought him here; all he knew was that his gut had told him to follow through with his suspicion.

Earlier that evening, he’d overhead Pansy bragging about how things were about to change at Hogwarts. Her voice coated with arrogance, she flamboyantly stalked about the Slytherin common room with talks of justice for the pure bloods.

“There will be no more traitors to our kind,” she stated vindictively, “The Dark Lord is upon us. And his work is going to be done without mercy.”

“Okay, Pans. We all know he’s upon us. What in the bloody fuck are you on about Hogwarts, though?” Nott spoke sourly, among the others crowded around the common room fireplace. Even a few first and second years had turned their heads to eavesdrop on the Slytherin princess.

“You’ll see.” She giggled, and Blaise looked up from the Prophet curiously. Meeting his skeptical and faintly annoyed expression, she rolled her eyes before continuing.

“Don’t you believe in justice for what is right, my dear Blaise?” Pansy had a way of faking, of dripping her entire demeanor with an act that was sweet as honey. Her head tilted sideways affectionately, eyelashes batted innocently, and steps swayed seductively. Most of the boys in school were prone to Pansy’s trap, falling head first into her hive. In fact, it seemed that Blaise and Draco were two of the very few that were immune to her tactics and charms.

“Of course, beautiful.” He flashed a grin in her direction, followed by a wink. The only way to fight Pansy was with fire.

Her face softened considerably. With a slight quirk of her lips, she stepped across the circle to the chase where he resided. She then leaned over him flirtatiously, and he wondered what she was getting at. It’s not as if he was a certain blonde; what was she wasting her time for?

“Meet me in the Room of Hidden Things. Tonight. You can help me serve such justice.” Her voice was a soft whisper against his ear lobe. Blaise rewarded her with a curious expression before she skipped off. He contemplated.

Now that he was almost to the Room, he approached it with his wand drawn. Before he was given the chance to make a requesting thought, a large wooden set of doors appeared. One of them creaked open slightly to reveal a smug Pansy, who grabbed Blaise and yanked him inside.

“Pansy!” He scolded, straightening his robes from the sudden dishevelment. “What in the fuck is going on?”

“I’m sorry, love,” she peered out once more to ensure his solitude before shutting the doors. Turning to face him, she clasped her hands into a giddy gesture. “I’m doing it, Blaise. Are you with me?”

He glanced around the room. It looked just as it had the last time he was here hiding some elvish “contraband” from Snape. Piles of dusty books and items long lost towered over them in several directions. There were brooms, balls, gadgets, and even empty alcohol bottles littering the area where history’s students galore had come to hide them.

“What exactly are you going to do, Pans?” He questioned cautiously, choosing to keep his wand out as he followed her dainty steps to a large cherry wood cabinet. She gazed upward at the intricacies of the woodwork, an awestruck expression plastered beneath glassy eyes. She then pivoted to Blaise, pupils dilated wildly.

“I’m doing the Dark Lord’s work.” Her lips pulled into a malicious grin, and Blaise wondered exactly when the poor girl had lost her sanity. “I’m going to let them in. The Death Eaters. You see, Blaise...” she moved one foot forward, stepping toward him. Her body was rigid, almost robotic in nature, mind psychotic, eyes still crazily widened with anticipation.

“Draco was supposed to do this. What I’m doing. He was the Chosen One. But he failed.” She cocked her head, a morose emotion creeping down her cheeks. “I loved him, Blaise. And he betrayed my family. His family. Your family.”

Blaise stiffened. “Pansy, if this is about Draco’s crush on Potter...”

Her mouth dropped. “He told you!?”

“No, of course not. But I’m not daft. He’s been pining after his arse for years.” Blaise lowered his wand, recognizing Pansy for the broken girl that she was. She was hurting.

“I predicted it, Blaise! He was supposed to be with me!” Zabini was silent, and Pansy’s attitude transformed to something else entirely: motivation.

“But the joke’s on him. Because I had another prediction.” She pointed her finger, spitting her point frantically. “When the Dark Mark is viewed high above the castle’s tallest point, someone will die. And that, my dearest Blaise, is tonight.” She marched back to the cabinet before stopping suddenly.

“You are going to help me, aren’t you, love?” Her stare was scrutinizing from beyond her shoulder.

“Help you do what, Pansy? Open a cabinet?” His wand was still in hand, ready to fire if need be.

“No, silly. Help our Dark Lord to infiltrate the school.” Her face had formed a wicked sort of grimace that caused even Blaise’s thick skin to crawl.

Blaise’s eyes were hard, stance unwavering. “No.”

The word was solid, made of a concrete promise that Pansy had not expected.

“I’m sorry?” She asked, brow furrowed in accusation.

“You heard me. If you think for one second that I’m turning my back on my own beliefs. You’re wrong.” He raised his wand as Pansy grabbed for hers, tucked in the confines of black robes.

“Your beliefs!? You believe what I believe! What our whole families believe!” She was hysterical, hot and angry tears staining rosy cheeks.

“You’re wrong, Pansy. The muggle borns dont deserve this. Draco doesn’t deserve this. Hell, YOU don’t deserve this.” Pansy lowered her wand and glanced back and forth repeatedly, allowing Zabini’s words to take hold.

“There’s still time, Pansy. We can get Dumbledore. We can stop them!”

The seconds ticked by in agonizing succession. Blaise’s wand was held high as tears continued to pour down Pansy’s reddened cheeks. Her eyes pierced him, saw directly through him and seemed to penetrate his soul. Her face twisted once more.

“You ALL LIED TO ME!”

Her shriek was ravenous, hungry for revenge. In a moment, her wand was raised and pointed directly at Blaise’s chest.

“Potrificus totalus!” She cried freakishly to an unexpectant Blaise who fell back, immediately frozen. The sight of her motionless friend on the ground before her caused something else inside of her to wrench. Had she Just done that? Had she hexed the boy she’d played with as a toddler? Heart snapping, Pansy let out a scream that filled the Room in echoes and waves. Her fists were balled; she was shaking profusely as her pulse matched the heady breaths that escaped her lips. Tears were matched by beads of sweat that formed on her brow as she allowed the anger to consume her. The next thing she remembered was the world turning red as she proceeded to unhinge the Vanishing Cabinet.

&&&

“That’s it! Up ahead!” Ginny and Ernie followed Susan’s whispers down a deserted corridor. Hannah paused once they’d reached their destination at a window on the far right. The others glanced about puzzled as she felt along the crimson rug that lined the castle floor, searching eagerly for her prize. Lifting the rug, her lips pulled into a satisfied smile when she revealed a trap door with an iron handle beneath her palm. She shared an excited moment with Susan, who’d obviously been hoping to see the secret passage again. “You ready guys?”

One by one, they each dropped into the hidden subfloor.

The passage was tunnel-like, and much smaller than the Puffs had remembered it. That, or maybe their memories were tainted at the lack of 4 humans in the condensed space. Either way, a scoffed “Jesus Christ, Hannah, must you elbow me!?” rang throughout the group as they huddled in utter darkness.

“Lumos.” Ginny lit her wand and searched their surroundings. They appeared to inhabit some sort of cavelike architecture, the walls of which were a cool gray stone. The floors were dirt, and Hannah coughed at the dust fuming what air was left between them. They were in the center of a long corridor, and Ginny turned to the Puff girls for direction.

“There’s a staircase... it should be that way.” Susan pointed ahead, and Ginny took off in a sprint with the others jogging behind.

In the distance was a rusty set of iron steps that had corroded and worn with time. They ascended these, and another, and another, until they were forced down an additional corridor that led them to the final steps onto the 7th floor.

Ginny, in all of her haste, immediately placed a weight bearing foot on the first of these steps only to find herself collapsed as it broke beneath her. She let out a soft yelp as Hannah helped her up.

“I just twisted my ankle. That’s all. Let’s keep going.” Hannah’s concerned expression would never beat Ginny’s ferociousness, so the group continued onward. At the top of this final staircase was another trap door, similar to the first.

Ginny was the first to peek her head slightly above ground, with Hannah popping up immediately behind her. An audible gasp escaped the Weasley’s throat as Hannah’s hand clasped her open mouth. As quick as they’d resurfaced, they vanished beneath the floor.

&&&

“Professor, where are we going?” Draco trailed along Dumbledore with Harry and Narcissa.

“To the 7th floor, of course. We must stand our ground.” They hastily shuffled along the empty corridor, passing several vacant suits of armor and tapestries that Harry had always known to adorn the castle. It was odd thinking about what was really happening.

They followed in silence, Narcissa standing close to Draco with each stride. Upcoming on the right was an opening in the castle wall, a lovely window that bore a seat for good reading. Harry had nestled there several times the previous year; feeling isolated and alone, he’d found solace in the view. You could see the astronomy tower from that spot; hell, you could see most of the castle and the Forbidden Forest. Harry reveled in how much Hogwarts had become his home. Something inside him wanted to reach for Draco, but he missed his opportunity when everything seemed to slow before his eyes.

He could hear Dumbledore’s foot clash against the stone floor in the conclusion of a hurried step; Draco’s breath unhinged softly beside him. Narcissa Malloy’s black dress was ruffling against the fabric of her petticoat. And then... it was dark.

They came to an immediate freeze, stopping in front of Harry’s window.

“They’re here.” The whispered words of Mrs. Malfoy shattered the unforgiving silence. Draco inspired sharply. Harry glanced outside, the moonlight a sole illuminant. It washed the castle a blurry white, enhancing each darkened window and entrance. It appeared that all candle light had been vanquished.

“Can you re-light the candles, sir?” Draco asked innocently, never having been a fan of dark spaces.

“No,” he replied thoughtfully, “this is dark magic. It would take time we do not have to reverse.” He began to step forward with the intention of picking up the pace to the 7th floor before Harry intervened.

“Sir,” he lifted a finger to point out at the vastness of the castle’s landscape. “There. Above the Astronomy tower.”

The others crowded around Harry, all venturing to see what had the boy’s attention.

A knot settled within Draco’s gut at the sight before him. There, hovering in a cloud of coal colored smoke above the tallest tower... was the Dark Mark.

The snake protruded hazily from the open mouth of the skull, mocking him. Calling specifically to Draco. “See? I’ve won. I’m here, and you’re cowering in the dark.”

His brow narrowed as he dug deep to find the determination. He didn’t have to wonder or ask who had cast the Mark. He knew far within the depths of his bones that Lucius Malfoy had arrived.

“Draco, Harry. Head to the 7th floor. Take out as many of them as you can. And then meet us in the Tower.”

The command was stout and unwavering. The boys nodded at the Professor before he launched himself ahead. Narcissa placed her lips to Draco’s forehead, communicating without words her desire to not let him go. Draco found himself fuzzy, eyelids fluttering shut and taking him back to sips of frothy hot cocoa.

And then she was gone, and they were alone.

“You ready?” Harry’s expression was serious, hand outstretched. Opening his eyes, Draco found the determination he needed to press onward. To face his father.

He placed his hand lovingly in Potter’s, and together they departed.


	25. A Re-United Army

“Did you hear that?” Ron and Hermione led as the group approached the end of the corridor. It veered sharply to the left, making it impossible to know what was around the corner. Minus the fact that they remained stuck in pitch darkness.

There were muttered voices up ahead, the whisperings of which were almost indistinct. The group huddled together against the wall, straining to listen.

“Gotta find Dumbledore-“  
“Yes, and the blood traitor.”  
“The Malfoy boy must die. Voldemort’s orders.”  
“I reckon it’s the only way Ole Lucius can redeem himself after what happened at the Ministry.”

Hermione clasped a hand over her gaping mouth. Luna’s eyes were hot with tears. Ron felt his stomach drop a few meters.

“Ma-Malfoy?” He whispered, a pang of regret in his voice. Suddenly, a clarity settled within Ron’s psyche. Memories flooded the front of his mind- Harry standing in the common room, afraid to tell him about Draco because ‘his life could be at stake.’ Angrily stomping off because he couldn’t handle Harry being in love. The two of them sneaking flirty glances in each other’s direction and Ron almost vomiting but looking at Hermione the same. The laughter. There had been more giggling and spat pumpkin juice in the last few months than there had been all of fifth year. Why hadn’t Ron recognized how happy Harry had been?

He snapped back to reality, focusing on the voices ahead. Right then and there, Ron Weasley made a decision. The next chance he got, he’d set things right with Draco Malfoy.

&&&

Dean could feel Seamus’s hot breath tickling against the back of his neck. Emotions were running high as they were stacked motionlessly against the opposing wall of the corridor, minding well to stay hidden from sight.

Not that anyone could see.

He swore he heard Luna crying, and Ron’s voice held some kind of emotion he’d never seen evoked from the bloke. In all of the tension, he barely minded when Seamus slipped an arm around his waist. This could quite possibly be their last night on Earth, and the idea settled within him as the Death Eaters continued to converse about the invasion.

No, he didn’t mind Seamus at all. And, in fact, if he had to be honest with himself, he’d find that he never did. He reached a hand back to Seamus’s free arm and gave it a squeeze. He felt Seamus relax against him.

All was calm for a moment. Until Neville gasped.

All six of them turned around to see what the commotion was, but Neville had already cast a Lumos. There, in the dim wand light, was the mask of a Death Eater.

“Well, well, Well, if it isn’t the stray Hogwarts students lurking where they ought not be. Didn’t your head master teach you to stay away from Death Eaters?”

Neville lifted his wand to cast a jinx, but the masked man was faster. In a fraction of a second, Neville was disarmed.

“Yaxley?” One of the men who’d been conversing earlier rounded the corner. “What are you-“ he paused. “Ah, you’ve found young blood.”

The other Death Eater rushed behind him. “Amycus, you found Yaxley? Ah!” The voice was feminine, and she stopped at the sight of the students. They were now surrounded.

“I knew this would be fun!” She finished.  
Amycus studied the group. “Isn’t that Arthur Weasley’s boy?”

Ron flushed, and Hermione whipped around to face the accuser. He gulped, but didn’t answer.

“He’s a pure blood.” The other remarked. “We can’t kill him.”

“Actually,” Yaxley remarked from across the group. “Our orders were to kill anyone who gets in our way. And if you ask me, Alecto...”

Alecto let out a guffaw, a giddy laugh that was wild with desire. She didn’t just have to kill for Voldemort... she wanted to.

Amycus lifted his wand with a smirk. “Well, let’s get to it then. The Weasley is mine.”

Alecto shrieked and raised her wand. “Crucio!”

But it was Hermione who tumbled to the floor with a yelp. Her face twisted into a grimace of sheer pain as her finger nails dug deep into her robes. Her teeth were grinding, a small distraction to the immense amount of torture that was upon her. Every nerve fiber was on fire- every body part roasting on hot coals and burning raw flesh. There were needles in her eyes, there must have been, because her vision was prickly and the world was a blur of darkness and skull masks. She heard a muffled cry- a Weasley- to “Please, stop hurting her.”

And then, everything went black.

&&&

Ron was utterly helpless. He heard nothing over the pounding of his heart, adrenaline pulsing in his chest. He wanted to curse Alecto, better yet kill her, but the wand of Amycus Carrow was held steadily at his temple. His gulp was an audible swallow accompanied by palms that were as red and sweaty as his own cheeks.

Neville was unarmed and the others were at the mercy of Yaxley, who was armed and ready to kill.

“Stupefy!” Seamus yelled, taking a rather brave chance at Alecto but falling victim to Yaxley’s own black magic. He yelped before falling to his knees and profusely vomiting.

“Seamus!” Dean called for him blindly but was stopped by Yaxley’s rapid immobilization.

“Please, stop hurting her.” Ron was begging now, wanting anything, needing anything to stop Hermione’s pain. But Alecto only laughed and increased the strength of the spell.

Tears were lodged uncomfortably in the back of his throat. Cho was sobbing uncontrollably. Luna appeared to be in another world entirely.

There was no hope.

But then...

“Expelliarmus!” The voice was none of theirs. It wasn’t even one of the Death Eaters. Ron looked up, horrified at what he might see.

But it wasn’t Luna or Cho or even Dean who was disarmed. It was Alecto.

“Who the-“ Yaxley broke his concentration on the girls and turned to search for the culprit of his fellow’s disarmament.

There, in the distance and coming their way, was Draco Malfoy.

“Stupefy!” Ron’s hands flew to his head as he dodged Luna’s spell and Amycus fell before them.

“Why, You filthy little!-“ Yaxley stepped forward and aimed at Luna, who cocked her head sideways with a smile.

“Have you met Harry Potter, sir?” Her eyes were bright with excitement, glowing prominently against the wandlight.

Yaxley’s brow furrowed in confusion for a split second before he tumbled to the floor.

“Immobulus!” The jinx came from behind and hit Yaxley so suddenly that he had no time to defend himself.

“Well, you have now.” Luna informed airily to Yaxley’s still body, sprawled on the floor between them.

Harry flashed her a smile before crossing to Seamus and Dean, muttering a subtle “reinervate” to reverse the spellwork. A few feet away, Ron pulled Draco Malfoy into an embrace.

“Malfoy- Draco- I... You... thank you.”

Draco started at the sudden unexpected contact and was rigid for a moment before he allowed himself to accept Ron’s unspoken apology.

With a shy quirk of his lips that only Harry seemed to notice, Draco placed his arms around Ron’s back in a brotherly embrace that shattered all walls between them. With a few friendly pats between Ron’s shoulder blades, his smile was replaced with an all too familiar Malfoy smirk.

“I think that’s enough contact. The last thing I’d like to do right now is turn into a red-headed Weasel.”

Ron immediately recognized Malfoy’s playful sarcasm as they pulled apart. He grinned.

“Please, Ferret. You wish you were a red-headed weasel.”

And then with a slight chuckle and an unspoken understanding of friendship, the two exchanged a nod and Ron turned abruptly to tend to Hermione.

&&&

“Thought you’d disarm me, you brats?” Alecto had found her wand and was thoroughly livid.

Neville, who had just found his own wand, straightened. “Petrificus totalus!” He spat quickly and without hesitation.

Alecto Carrow was down for the count. As her rigid frame hit the floor, her mask slipped incidentally to the side to reveal a frozen smirk.

Neville released the breath he was holding. Seamus and Dean found themselves perched at his sides, rejuvenated and ready to keep fighting.

Harry grinned in his direction. “You’ve gotten really good at that spell, Neville.”

“I, uhm,” he hesitated at first, but straightened with another glance at Carrow. “I have, haven’t I? Thanks, Harry.”

And then Draco’s palm was on Harry’s shoulder. “We need to keep going.” He whispered, the breath tickling the lobe of his ears. Harry nodded, knowing that there was to be more trouble ahead. Their small victory had illuminated something within him, and he looked at Draco lovingly.

“We’ve got this.” He stated, and Draco returned the sentiment with a soft expression that reflected his own confidence. As they took a step forward, prepared to lead the group across the 7th floor, Amycus Carrow began to stir.

His movements were subtle as he awoke from the effects of Luna’s spell. He sluggishly reached for his wand, which had landed a few feet from him, and glanced upward to see a group of Hogwarts students looking a bit too smug for his liking.

No one defeated Amycus and lived. Senses coming too, he rapidly grasped his wand and pointed it at the group, hastily going without aim and hoping to hit any one of them.

He opened his mouth to say the spell, to injure, harm, or kill any one of the brats. But then, he saw her. She was speaking to the one she called “Neville,” a dreamy and far-off glaze plastered on her face. Was she stuck like that?

She was the one who had stunned him. She was the one who was going to die.

He pointed his wand in her direction, aiming for destruction.

&&&

“They’re all at wand point! Hermione, she’s on the floor. I think he’s used the Cruciatus on her!”

Ginny and Hannah frantically whispered to Susan and Ernie, whose orbits had all but tripled in size.

“Guys, we’ve got to do something!” Ginny’s voice was hoarse and contained an urgency that the Hufflepuffs had never heard from her. “They’ve got Luna! And Neville!”

Ernie pushed past them, climbing the final steps and poking his head slowly above ground. The door was cracked maybe an inch, and with all of the commotion no one had noticed the creaking of the rusted hinges as he thrust upward.

“I’ll keep watch.” He told the others, and Ginny pushed her way next to him. “Me too.”

Two sets of eyes watched the group, waiting for the perfect moment to intervene.

&&&

“Malfoy! Harry!” Macmillan whispered excitedly as Hannah and Susan waited for report.

“They’re here!?” Susan jumped excitedly, praying for the best to occur.

“Yes, and they’re completely kicking Death Eater arse!” Ernie wildly commentated. He reminded Ginny eerily of Lee Jordan, her brothers’ best friend.

“Come on!” Macmillan signaled for them to join, but Ginny stopped him with a grip on the arm.

“No,” she stated cautiously, “let’s wait.”

They observed Luna’s Stupefy, and Neville’s Petrificus, and Ron and Malfoy’s blossoming friendship. And then, Ginny saw with a start, Amycus’s awakening.

Her pulse quickened. She’d almost told the group that they were safe to emerge, to join the rest of Dumbledore’s Army in their escapade to rid the 7th floor of darkness. But then, the Death Eater on the floor was stirring, and he was reaching for his wand, and Oh my god, he was pointing it at Luna...

“PROTEGO!” She accidentally shoved Ernie as she thrust the trap door open and emerged fully. In all of her red-headed, fiery passion, her shield extended to Luna gracefully and flawlessly blocked the Carrow’s curse. All eyes turned to Ginny and the others as they began to pop from the floor one by one.

Upon seeing her savior, Luna’s cheeks tugged upward into an impossibly wide grin. “Ginny, love!” She exclaimed, and Ginny felt herself blushing as she approached them.

Amycus’s wand remained high, and the others began to arm themselves in a fit of haste. But before he could curse them, he cast a quick reinervate on his counterparts.

&&&

When Hermione came to, there were curses flying. Bright swirls of magic hurled across the corridor in a rainbow of colors that illuminated the area with ease. Ron was above her; she could just barely make out those crystal blue eyes...

The world became clearer. Reality set in. Her friends were all around her, jumping and hiding frantically behind anything they could use to shield themselves. Casting hexes and curses and defensive charms at Voldemort’s men. My God, were they... winning? She blinked rapidly, allowing her senses to return to full capacity.

“Hermione? Hermione, thank God!” Ron pulled her into an embrace as soon as she attempted to sit up. His arms were warm, and smelled of the burrow. Her second home. It was surreal to be held in the middle of a war zone, as if they were shielded by affection.

Ron pulled back and placed both hands on her temporal bones, running his palms along her hair. His fingers rested on her posterior head as he gazed into brown eyes that were almost as dark as the world around them. They were beautiful.

And then, he kissed her. Gently, at first, but then it was firm as he pressed his lips against hers. Her mouth seemed to involuntarily part, needing more of him. More of what she’d been waiting for for so long...

His tongue was warm against hers. It was better than she ever could have formulated, or guessed, or figured out. Everything seemed to tense and relax simultaneously and her senses were raging hot white. Her hand had found his cheek, pulling his freckled face closer, enjoying the moment that was finally theirs.

They pulled apart, smiling stupidly at one another, a similar thought of “what in the hell took us so long” bounding between them.

“Hermione, I’m in love with you!” Ron exclaimed, taking her hand and lifting her to a standing position. “Harry loves Draco, and I love you, and I just... I’ve known it for so long, you know? You’re it, ‘Mione! You’re the one for me!”

A look of concern flashed across brown eyes before she shrieked “duck!” As a bright green curse flew overhead.

“Wow, um, thanks Hermione! So about what I said...” they straightened up, and Hermione immediately began dragging them to safety behind a suit of armor.

“We’ve got to move, Ronald!” She paused, turning back to show him her biggest smile. “But, yes, I love you, too!”

&&&

Blaise was immobilized in the strongest of forms, but his senses were keen as ever. He’d landed behind a transfigured couch that was surrounded by piles of books and outdated copies of the Prophet.

He listened intensely as the Death Eaters began to step from the vanishing cabinet, one by one. There were so many of them, he lost count. He strained to hear names, to make out what subtle conversations were taking place.

He heard shrieks of laughter and malicious cackling. Hushed giggles and proclamations of the Dark Lord’s victory.

He immediately recognized the next voice that arrived. It was deep, resonating with leadership and authority. He’d heard it most of his childhood on play dates with his best mate. He’d listened to it conversing with his own father. Truth be told, he knew that voice even without seeing the face. He knew it almost as well as he knew the owner’s son.

“You’ve done a fine job, Pansy. You know the plan. Your role is to keep an eye out for Potter. You are not to kill him; he is to be left to our Lord. But you will stop him at any other cost. We all know that the pretentious little brat has a habit of... disrupting things. Nothing is to get in our way tonight.”

He seemed to turn to the rest of the Death Eaters. “There will be plenty of deaths tonight. Justice regarding the blood traitors will be served. Remember who you kill for.”

And then the clomping of footsteps was evident, shrinking in the distance as the Death Eaters began to infiltrate the 7th floor. All but one seemed to exit.

“Pansy, I just wanted to let you know how absolutely proud of you I am. You’ve done great work. Always remember that the Dark Lord’s purpose comes before everything, including those we love most. You’ve done a great job at proving that tonight.”

Cassius Parkinson. He recognized that voice too. He knew this must’ve meant more than life itself to Pansy; growing up with her proved that her relationship with her father was difficult. It was actually quite similar to Malfoy’s, and Blaise wondered if she’d done most of this to please him. Or to get back at Draco for not filling the emptiness in her soul.

As the remaining Death Eater left the room, Blaise heard one more thing prefacing the complete silence that ensued: The muffled sobs of Pansy Parkinson.

&&&

“Well, guys, I think we’ve done it.” Macmillan and the rest of the gang stood over the three Death Eaters, who were stunned, bound, and completely unconscious.

“Shall we continue?” Piped Neville, who had already cast a lumos to guide the way.

Draco and Harry were in the lead, shoulder to shoulder, alarmingly close but not touching.

Ron and Hermione were next, armed and ready but keeping close contact. Beside them was Hannah and Neville, who’d shared small pecks and hugs and grateful sweet things that proved their feelings for one another.

Next in line were Ginny and Luna, who marched forward arm in arm without question from the others. Dean and Seamus walked without contact but were both alarmingly aware of the new air that had settled between them. Even in a war zone, there were gentle smiles and soft glances between them. Things, it seemed, would never be the same.

And behind them was the conglomerate of Hufflepuffs and Cho Chang, following in earnest and keeping watch from behind.

They continued forward, wands lit in an effort to interrupt the darkness. Confidence trailed them; they didn’t bother hiding anymore. As they rounded the corner of the next corridor, something to the right caught Draco’s eye: a window.

The moonlight cast a bright kind of shadow on the hall ahead of them. The opening was a kind relief to the pitch black around them, a natural reprieve to the wandlight.

Draco stopped to peer outside, searching immediately for the astronomy tower. Just ahead and to the left of his line of vision was the Dark Mark, floating in a smokey haze above his destination.

He stared for a moment, absorbed in what was to come. That was when he saw a bright flash of neon lime light from the tower, reflecting on the surface of the castle in an eerie glow that could only mean one thing: the battle had begun.

His breath caught in a harsh bubble somewhere down the middle of his trachea, and Harry gave his arm a squeeze.

“Harry, I’ve got to go.” He turned to his mate, losing himself momentarily in green irises. He watched Potter’s Adam’s apple bob after a deep swallow.

“I’ll come with you.”

Harry’s grip tightened on his bicep. Draco’s gaze didn’t falter, but his head fell slightly.

“I’ve got to do this one alone, Harry. This is my battle to fight with my father.”  
His voice cracked slightly. He wanted nothing more than the bring Harry, to leave and skip off into the sunset and never look back.

But this was war. And war requires sacrifice. And the last thing he wanted was to put Harry in harm’s way.

Harry nodded without word. As much as it pained him, he could feel what Draco was going through. And he knew that if the tables were turned, he wouldn’t let him near that tower. So, regretfully, he didn’t argue.

Draco’s stare deepened into a wordless “I love you” before he turned and headed into the shadows.


	26. House Elves, Pansy Parkinson, & Those Emerald Eyes

Harry led the group forward. As soon as the Death Eaters were eradicated to the best of their ability, he vowed to meet Draco at the astronomy tower. You know, just in case.

“Mate, I don’t know if you’ll need it. But we brought your cloak.” Ron pulled the folded fabric from the back of his pants, where it’d been safely tucked until this moment. Harry grinned with renowned excitement.

“Ron! You guys are the greatest!” He retrieved the cloak and placed it in the fold of his own pants. He wasn’t sure when or how he might use it, but damn, if this wasn’t the occasion to have one.

The crowd pressed onward, turning down an additional corridor that branched from the main hallway. Some of them were unsure if they’d ever seen this part of the castle, but it seemed like the perfect place for wayward Death Eaters to congregate. The hall was lined with doors on either side that Harry speculated to be former classrooms.

There were a number of alcoves and pillars aligning the corridor as well, providing a safe haven for both the enemy and themselves.

This portion of the 7th floor was eerily quiet, and Harry subconsciously wondered when they’d be ambushed. Senses alert, he peered side to side with each step defensively.

A few silent moments later, and their first distraction appeared from an alcove behind them. The masked man jumped out, ruthlessly firing curses at the group.

The Hufflepuffs stood ground, throwing shield charms through the wind impressively while Cho Chang ran for cover in a nearby passage. Harry intended whole heartedly to charge forward, throwing hexes and jinxes and whatever else he could at the opposition, but there was a tug on his robes as he was pulled violently in another direction.

&&&

Pansy was able to stand her ground, but not by much. Her legs were shaking. Hell, everything was shaking in an earthquake that threatened to lodge her deep into the pits of hell. She’d made her father proud, for once in her goddamned life. Why did she feel so shitty? So absolutely horrified at what was happening? So positively sick to her stomach?

She hid in a discreet alcove that extended from the 7th floor and waited. Something told her she’d run into Potter soon enough. What she wasn’t sure about, however, was what the hell she was going to when she did.

&&&

Yanking Potter by the robes and dragging him into a closed classroom near the alcove where she waited turned out to be surprisingly easy. She immediately warded the door so that no bystanders could barge in and followed it with a few silencing spells. Eavesdroppers were not welcome.

As her victim straightened and began gathering in his surroundings, Pansy happened to notice his glasses had become crooked upon the bridge of his nose. They were quite askew, abandoning his right eye completely and barely covering the left. Before fixing them, he stared directly at her in an attempt to unveil his personal perpetrator.

And that’s when she saw it. The most beautiful shade of emerald contrasted boldly against the white of Potter’s eyes. Never had she seen a pair of irises so vibrant, so bold, so outstandingly unique. Her own brown eyes became clouded with dilation, pupils widening at the sudden knowledge she’d become armed with.

Emerald. The color of his eyes. Raven. The color of his hair. Holy fucking God... Her prophecies didn’t lie. The Sight didn’t lie. And right here before her, straightening out his robes and staring at her confusedly... was Draco’s destiny. His future. His everything that she’d predicted.

It wasn’t her. It was never... her. Her mouth dropped, and she’d completely forgotten why the fuck she’d brought him in here. She expected to feel enraged, betrayed even at this discovery, but a knot seemed to loosen in her stomach. And she wasn’t sure why.

“Parkinson? What are you doing here? Why did you pull me in here? My friends are in danger!”

His voice was calm but bothered, and Pansy knew that he was completely unaware of her betrayal towards him.

“It was me. I let them in.” What the fuck? Was there a reason she felt the need to pour her heart out to the Boy Who Fucking Lived?

“Parkinson-Pansy- why? Why would you do such a thing!?”

She swallowed, tears reaching the surface. “Because I thought it was the right thing to do.” Her voice was choked and cracking with each syllable.

“I know he loves you.” Her next confession was even more subtle, barely spoken.

Harry’s eyes bore into her without a word. She felt them piercing right through her, reaching into the depths of her soul.

“Potter, I... my own family would turn me to the Dark Lord if he told them to. My own... father.”

“Yes. He would. Voldemort, he brainwashes people. Death Eaters are no more than pawns in his sick and twisted game. And you just allowed them into our one safe place, Pansy. If they hurt Dumbledore, or even so much as lay a hand on Draco-“

“Stupefy!” She cried, interrupting Harry’s threat and blasting him to the wall behind. Immediately upon contact, Pansy heard the thump of his head against the stone that caused his ultimate unconsciousness.

Unmoving, his body slid to the floor. Pansy shuffled to him, kneeling closely to observe the pattern of his breathing.

“You’ll be alright when you wake up,” she concluded, coming to a stand.

She undid the warding and stepped out into a now empty corridor. Before she closed the door behind her, she turned to take one more glance at Potter’s motionless figure.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered truthfully, and then she was gone.

&&&

“Has anyone seen Harry?” Hermione asked after they’d taken down their most recent threat.

“Where the fuck did he go? He was just here!” Seamus glanced back and forth, eyes scanning the hall that was dimly lit by his wand.

“Did someone take him?” Cho said nervously, glancing at the others.

“Well if they did, it’s not like you would’ve stopped them!” Seamus snapped, and Dean placed a hand around his waist to stop him from approaching her. “You left Hannah, Ernie, and Susan to rot!”

“It’s ok, Cho, we really can handle ourselves,” Hannah interjected sweetly, but she knew Seamus was right.

“Guys! Now is not the time for bickering! We are all Dumbledore’s Army, and we are all here to fight!” Hermione spoke from the back of the group, and Ron beamed at her proudly. “What we need to do is find Harry!”

They searched the immediate area, but Pansy had charmed the door to blend flawlessly into the wall around it. There was no chance of them finding Harry until the magic faded slightly.

“Do you think he headed to the astronomy tower? That’s where Draco was...”

Luna didn’t have to finish her sentence. Somehow, everyone knew that Harry would inevitably follow Draco, and vice versa. They’d been drawn to each other, it seemed, since the beginning. First anger, and then friendship, and, well... one could speculate the rest.

Hermione nodded. “Come on! Let’s get to it.”

And they turned down another corridor, ready to face the perils of the 7th floor while on the trail to saving their friends.

&&&

“Yes, yes, in the Room of Requirement! I overheard a snarky one from Slytherin talking about a plan... a plan for He Who Must Not Be Named! Tonight! We must check!”

“It is not our business as House elves to mutter in such things, Dobby! We must trust Dumbledore to take care!” The house elf Winky eyed him with contempt.

“If Dumbledore is in trouble, who will save him? We owe it to him! After all he’s done for us!”

The debacle was settled by a third house elf appearing next to Dobby at their spot in the kitchens.

“Death Eaters! There are Death Eaters in the castle!” Dobby knew this elf to be known as Blinkey, and he’d never seen her so distraught.

It was common knowledge that Death Eaters didn’t take kindly to freed House elves. Hell, they didn’t take kindly to their own servants.

Winky blinked at Dobby, astonished. “You were right, Dobby! What should we do!?”

“We head to the Room of Requirement, of course. For Dumbledore!”

“For Dumbledore.” The other two agreed in unison. And then, with an ability unique to House elves alone, they apparated to the 7th floor.

&&&

The room appeared utterly vacant. The trio of elves stepped forward, observing the likes of a mess none of them had the opportunity to clean. Winky shuttered.

“Have students always been throwing their trash here?”

Dobby turned to her, eyes wide with appreciation for the Room. “Not trash, Winky! Treasures!”

They approached the Cabinet, which was still hung open from the earlier entrance of the opposition.

“My, that is a special kind of magic. I can sense it.” Blinkey cocked his head contemplatively.

“This is how they got in.” Dobby slid a hand down the surface of the cherry wood. The three were silent for a moment, allowing the moment to sink in.

And then... there was tapping. It was a soft, gentle sound that echoed against the mounds of student relics.

The elves, with their exceptionally keen sense of hearing, turned toward the noise. It stopped for a few seconds, and they glanced at each other nervously.

And then it began again.

Dobby ran forward urgently, bypassing a dusty old couch and what appeared to be several ancient racing brooms.

There, behind a mountain of rubbish, was an extremely focused Blaise Zabini.

With just enough concentration, he’d managed to free his left ankle of Pansy’s spell. Forcibly he flexed it up and down, butting it against the floor in a way much less violent than he’d intended.

Dobby gasped. “I’ve seen you, sir! You are a friend of Mr. Malfoy’s!”

Blaise tried to nod to no avail.

“Let me help you, dear sir!” Dobby placed a hand on his shoulder, using his exquisite elf magic to reverse the effects of the spell wordlessly.

Immediately, Blaise jolted upward. His chest heaved as he battled a fit of coughing brought about by the near immobilization of his lungs for so long.

Dobby waited patiently while Blaise revitalized. As his breathing slowed, he extended a hand to Dobby.

“Nice to meet you formally, sir.” He introduced, and Dobby broke into a wide grin as he shook his hand eagerly.

“Any friend of Mr. Malfoy is a friend of ours!” He helped Blaise to a standing position, and he smiled at the elf’s politeness.

“Thank you for your help. Speaking of Draco, he’s in trouble.”

&&&

When Narcissa and Dumbledore arrived at the astronomy tower, they were unsure of what to expect.

The darkness hung like a bad omen suspended in sheets around them. Dumbledore took the first step, hastily ascending the spiral stairway in an effort to face the opposition.

Narcissa trailed behind him, clutching the silk of her dress as she all but ran up the path. The higher they traveled, the tighter her guts seemed to twist into a sinking pretzel. She knew who she was about to face, even if she lacked proof of his presence. Would she be able to?

When Dumbledore’s foot hit the last step, he came to a screeching halt.

It seemed as if their company had been expecting them.

In the shape of an arc stood several Death Eaters, all of which had their wands drawn with the exception of the man in the very center. All of them bore masks, again, with the exception of the leader.

Narcissa nervously entered the ambush, becoming quickly aware that this was all planned. They’d been drawn to the tower for a reason. And now, she was a traitor, standing amongst wolves. The hair became evident on her posterior arms, standing rigid at the sight of her husband.

Dumbledore stood idly, wand still fastened in his robes. Narcissa followed his lead.

“Narcissa Black.” Lucius Malfoy’s voice was harsh, cold, and dripping with contempt. Silver eyes dug deep within her being, frozen with a lack of the love that they’d once shared.

She didn’t say a word.

“We are done.” He claimed, and with a wave of his hand Narcissa was thrown against the wall.

Her back slammed forcefully against stone, cracking against the surface before she fell to the ground. There was a series of cackles from across the room, skull masks bobbing maliciously.

Dumbledore kept his focus on the men at hand, still refraining from grabbing his wand.

“Why, Lucius? Why has Tom decided to invade tonight?”

“Don’t you know, Albus? You, after all, have been harboring the traitor.” His lip peeled back to reveal a sharp smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

At this, There was another round of laughter. Lucius lifted his chin in amusement.

“But of course you do. My wife has surely informed you of what we know. Of how my son has abandoned everything he was raised to do. And now, you have the audacity to try and protect him. Well, Albus, let me warn you... your little charade ends now.”

Dumbledore reached for his wand, but Lucius Malfoy’s right hand man was quicker. “Expelliarmus!”

Dumbledore’s wand flew to the side and rolled several meters away.

“Cassius Parkinson, I know that is you. And I know that you’ve brainwashed your poor daughter into believing that Voldemort is the only way.”

“My poor daughter!?” Cassius threw off his mask. “Pansy is the reason we’re here tonight. She has YET to disappoint me.”

Lucius placed a hand on the front of Parkinson’s chest, blocking him from attacking Dumbledore further.

“Enough, Cassius. His time is coming. He will die tonight. But not before my son.”

“How can you do this to him!?” The cries of Narcissa Malfoy echoed against the silence that befell the Death Eaters. “He’s just a boy!”

Lucius turned to her with an unforgiving stare. At that point, he raised his wand, pointed it solidly at his wife, and spoke.

“Crucio.”

His voice was even-tempered and lacked any trace of remorse. Immediately, her hands were shaking against the stone as she attempted to brace herself through the pain. Her fingernails dug into the floor; toes curled; stomach flipped with nausea. There was nothing that could compare to the sensation of hot coals being pressed on every part of her body.

This... was how it felt. For all of the muggleborns. For everyone He Who Must Not Be Named had a distaste for. She pressed onward, enduring the pain with a bravery that even a Gryffindor couldn’t touch.

It lasted for an eternity, even if that eternity was mere seconds. Her body was dripping with sweat. Dumbledore stood defenseless, preparing himself for a wandless spell that would distract them all.

The Death Eaters remained armed and ready. Narcissa’s teeth were grinding, bearing through the fire that was the Cruciatus curse. And Lucius Malfoy smiled cruelly at her misfortune.

“Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Incarcerous!”

The voice came from the shadows, causing Lucius to abruptly lose concentration of his spell. He remained armed, but the men around him were a different story.

Cassius Parkinson was bound. The men on his left were thrown backward. Another was disarmed completely.

Lucius pointed his wand at the nothingness from which the voice came confusedly. Apparently the darkness had inconveniently slowed both sides.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore grabbed his wand and took out the remaining Death Eaters. All that remained was Lucius.

Narcissa was unconscious as her savior stepped from the shadows.

Lucius Malfoy’s expression turned from bemusement to an utterly sickening pleased one. His lips turned upward into a devilish smirk.

“Draco.”


	27. Redemption

Draco gulped but didn’t falter. His wand was pointed directly at his father, stance ready to defend himself. When he didn’t reply, Lucius lowered his wand.

“You won’t hurt me.” He claimed with a grin. At this point he began pacing back and forth, a few steps in each direction.

“So, my question for you is... when? When did you betray your entire family?”

“It’s been a while.” Draco kept himself cool and collected, refusing to back down for anything.

“Hm.” Lucius nodded. “Not even going to try to deny it anymore? Not even going to compose some half-decent lie to try to cover your own arse like you did at the fireplace?”

Draco’s face didn’t reflect the uncertainty within. “How did you know about that?”

Another voice approached from the darkness. It was a familiar drawl that Draco found to be quite soothing.

“Because although your father is an awful Legilimens, the Dark Lord happens to be quite astute.”

Out of the shadows stepped none other than Professor Snape, wand drawn and pointed ahead. Draco relaxed slightly.

“Severus? Why have you taken it upon yourself to help protect the traitor? Surely you were unaware of his behavior?”

“Unaware is a loose term, Lucius. While I do not agree with some of his choices, I will protect his life as my own.”

A silence settled between the trio, wands drawn two against one. Draco could feel his own breathing, shallow and heady. A cold sweat had broken on his posterior neck. He shuddered slightly.

“I do apologize, Severus, but the Dark Lord doesn’t see it so. He wants the boy dead.” He cocked his head at Draco and his Godfather, who had become in fact more of a father to him than he’d ever expected.

“So, what, Dad, you’re gonna kill me?” His voice was laced with disgust in an almost haughty fashion. He tried to hide his shaking knees.

Lucius laughed softly. “You know, Draco, when I met with you in the fire that night, I had a visitor. The Dark Lord himself was listening in on our conversation. He wanted to make sure that your intentions were pure.

What he saw in your mind’s eye was enough to floor the rest of us. My own son, in a blasphemous relationship with the boy Potter? And the fact that you believe you...love him?” He raised his eyebrows condescendingly and allowed a chuckle to escape his lips.

“And your poor excuse of a lie. Even I could see through your faked plans, and like Severus has so boldly made clear... I am a terrible Legilimens. We knew all along, Draco. Everyone knows about your sexual deviancy. Everyone knows you’ve turned your back on what’s right. And, when we win, your death will be in vain.”

“You think I bloody well care what you think!?” Draco shouted, abruptly losing his poise in favor of the intense passion rooted throughout his body. This was it. This was the confrontation he’d been waiting years for. His heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping coarsely throughout his circulatory system.

“You can go ahead and fucking kill me, Dad! Do it! After everything you’ve done to me, all of the shit you’ve put me through for 16 years, death would be a goddamn reprieve!”

“Settle yourself, Draco.” Lucius kept his wand lowered with an amused expression. “I have no desire to waste my time murdering you.” He turned his focus to the nothingness behind them.  
“You can come out now.”

Out of the shadows stepped a third individual, quite unlike the others.

Her raven black hair was pulled in front of her face, contrasted boldly against the ghostly hue of her skin.

She stepped slowly, cautiously toward the trio. Her wand was pulled, revealing the shaky hand that she struggled intently to steady. To be honest, she was deathly afraid of what was to come.

“Your friend here knows what’s right.” Lucius snarled, presenting a proud extended hand toward Pansy. “She made this little get together possible. She let us in.”

Draco shifted his gaze to the girl he’d known since childhood. She didn’t look like a cold blooded killer. Her face was matted with dust from battle, streaked by tears; her hair was disheveled more than he’d ever seen it...

If he didn’t know better, he’d say she appeared...regretful.

Pansy’s head fell as she crossed the room, reluctant to make eye contact with her former friend. She pointed her wand at her father and paused, apparently making some sort of decision. The moment passed briefly as she cast a loosening spell on Draco’s restraints. After helping him stand, she turned apprehensively to face the rest of them.

“Our Dark Lord has decided that,” Lucius stepped forward with an air of playful and dramatic amusement. “...because Draco couldn’t follow through with the task he’d been given...” he placed a hand on Pansy’s shoulder, gesturing toward her proudly in a way that had never been reserved for Draco. “...and Ms. Parkinson has succeeded at said task...” he lifted his hand and waved it about in grandeur fashion. “...then who better to end Draco Malfoy’s life, but the successor herself!” He was all but laughing, an almost ravenous expression plastered across grinning lips and wild eyes.

Draco subconsciously stepped backward, though his wand remained high. He had suddenly found himself unable to breathe. His father held the erratic and untamed behavior before him proudly, a symbol of just how far gone he’d become. His stance mirrored that of Aunt Bellatrix whose obsession and devotion to the Dark Lord caused her sanity to nearly rot.

Across from Draco stood a petrified Pansy, whose mouth had all but fallen from her face. When their eyes met, Draco noticed fresh tears staining her cheeks.

The moment seemed to freeze. Draco could only imagine the expression his face held; a mixture of fear and disbelief had swept him from the ground up. Neither made a move, though Pansy’s wand trembled slightly in front of her. The silence was an eerie but tranquil middle ground, stretching timelessly between them.

Until it didn’t.

With a loud crack, Blaise Zabini had appeared and was seemingly armed with 3 House elves. His arms were crossed, a smirk playing lightly on his lips. As it turned out, his presence was wholly unexpected. He stood smugly, pleased with himself.

No one moved a muscle. Lucius spoke.

“Ah, a Zabini has graced us with his presence.” He turned to one of the Death Eaters that remained motionless from Snape’s spell.

“Why don’t you heal your father and join the soirée?”

&&&

Pansy started at the loud crack that revealed a confident Blaise. She felt her insides lurch at the sight of him, intestines twisting due to confusion but also of utter relief. Blaise... he was okay. He was the same as always. She hadn’t done any permanent damage. Relief turned to... excitement. Maybe she was, in fact, redeemable. She felt her trembling hand steady.

&&&

What in the fuck was Blaise doing here? And with... Dobby? Things were turning absolutely mental, and Draco wasn’t sure what to make of it. Had Blaise come to do him in himself? Or would Pansy beat him to it? He held his ground, but barely. As his once statuesque grip on his wand loosened into a nervous quiver, he noticed Pansy staring in his direction.

Her lips separated from a thin line to begin forming words. Her eyes were full of anticipation, and Draco’s heart quickened at the possibility of what was to come.

He focused steadily on her lips, yearning to know what last words he would grasp. He feared that his end was near, and he attempted to make peace with the fact that his death would be cause-worthy.

The thoughts became stuck somewhere between acceptance and tears that were lodged in the back of his throat. A single face flashed through his mind- Harry’s, and all at once his ideas morphed into memories of the two of them.

Sitting beneath an old oak tree with promises of forever. Warm water dripping in beads down the small of his back. That crooked smile, accompanied by glasses that tended to remain the same. And those eyes... they were emerald, and trusting, and so easily consuming of everything Draco had to offer...

There was nothing else he wanted; needed. He had to fight. For what was right. For Harry.

He felt himself physically strengthen as he prepared to cast a hell of a shield charm.

What Pansy mouthed next were the words “I’m sorry.”

&&&

Blaise didn’t have a chance to respond to Lucius Malfoy’s invitation.

On the right were Dumbledore and Snape, awaiting wordlessly for the right moment to attack.

On his left was Draco, trapped in a lockdown with Pansy. And in front of him was Lucius Malfoy, surrounded by several incapacitated Death Eaters and what appeared to be Mr. Parkinson.

“It’s okay, Pansy. Serve him justice.” The voice of her father resonated with twisted authority masked by a faux tranquility. It was yet another attempt to manipulate her.

Pansy’s face was unlike Blaise had ever seen it before. She was scared, and deep to her core. He studied her features as time seemed to slow around them. Surely, he was hallucinating. Her expression morphed from frightened to resolute. What was she formulating?

And then, he realized it. She had made up her mind. She was going to murder her best friend.

“PANSY, NO!” The scream escaped Blaise’s lips before he could stifle it. And, with a flick of her wand, Pansy cast a spell.

&&&

“Were almost there, guys! We’ve got to keep going!” Ron and the others were sprinting toward the astronomy tower. It had been a long haul from the 7th floor, and Neville was nearly out of breath, but they charged forward nonetheless.

They were beyond any straggler Death Eaters and had taken out four more forcefully along the way.

The group’s teamwork had proven more than effective; they’d stunned, knocked out, and bound every one of them. Luna was keen on shielding while Seamus and Dean provided distraction.

Even Cho had played her part in taking down the opposition. Ginny and Macmillan now ran side by side, 2 of the fastest sprinters in the group. Luna skipped along cheerily, confidence bubbling from behind them.

Ron and Hermione were next in line, keeping a similar pace. And in the back was Neville and the Hufflepuffs, who had slowed for his sake.

“The stairs! I can see them!” Ginny upped her game, legs cramping but refusing to give out. Together, they began the trek toward the sky.

&&&

“Incendio.”

Her tone was solemn and secure. The spell left her lips like fresh redemption, cleansing her fate. No longer shaking, Pansy stood without movement, dignified.

Draco’s gaze immediately went downward, as he expected any part of his body to be engulfed by flames. He awaited the burning sensation, the charred etches of raw flesh. The pain.

He snapped upward when it didn’t come. An irate but pained cry escaped the throat of the man across from him. The man he knew to be his father.

Before Draco was a humbled Lucius Malfoy, whose robes were consumed by flames. He began to shriek and flail about violently, attempting instinctively to put out the fire.

Meanwhile, several things happened at once.

Pansy and Draco’s eyes met in a formative truce that would change everything about their relationship.

Her lips pulled into a sly, almost facetious smile that let Draco know she was still the same Pansy, but cleansed anew.

Draco returned the gesture with a bob of his head and his famous Malfoy smirk. Pansy shook her head, grinning.

Dumbledore and Snape began firing spells across the room at Cassius Parkinson and the others, whom he’d revived in the split second following Pansy’s spell.

The House elves apparated and disapparated, using their magic to ambush the enemy.

Blaise placed an arm on Draco’s shoulder after ducking an incidental curse. He patted it twice, and Draco glanced at him questioningly.

“You didn’t join your father,” Draco observed, and Pansy stepped forward.

“For the same reason I haven’t.” She declared, eyeing Blaise gratefully. “Because no one deserves this.”

Blaise flashed her a grin before turning back to Draco. “I’m with you on this one, brother. And I won’t back down.”

&&&

“What in the bloody hell is happening up here?” The words belonged to Ron Weasley as he entered hastily with the rest of Dumbledore’s Army. Curses flew in every direction, illuminating the space beyond the silver of the moonlight.

He blocked a dark jinx that was headed his way, and Hermione placed a shield in front of Cho and Susan.

“Just exactly how many students refuse to follow instruction?” Snape asked in the annoyed, frustrated tone he often reserved for them. He continued to dual one of Voldemort’s men with an exasperated expression on his face.

Ron smirked, happy to have frustrated the old git.

Hermione threw a jinx in the direction of Blaise’s father, who fell face first after he consequently lost his sense of equilibrium.

Luna and Hannah flitted about, conjuring shields for their counterparts and earning bone chilling grimaces from beneath skull masks.

Neville and Macmillan double teamed an unknown death eater who put up a rather good fight but was eventually thrown to the floor by Neville’s famous “Petrificus totalus.”

“Yes!” Neville shrieked while gesturing his excitement with a downward pull of his fist.

“Good job, mate!” Macmillan patted him on the shoulder, and they rushed to join Seamus and Dean in another dual.

If looks could kill, Lucius Malfoy would have taken out the entire room. Mr. Parkinson cast an aguamenti spell to diminish the fire, and all that remained were the tatters of his robes and an irate expression that was fixed upon his face.

He immediately turned his attention to Draco, who had joined Blaise and Pansy on a tirade to take out as many Death Eaters as rapidly as possible.

“Malfoy! Where’s Harry!?” The voice of Ron Weasley echoed amongst the commotion.

“I thought he was with you!” He blocked a curse that was thrown his way.

“Fuck! We lost him!” Ron continued to battle with Hermione by his side.

Zabini’s attention was captured by a jinx that was cast from the right.

“How could you, Blaise!? Choose Dumbledore’s filthy arse over your own family? You are no son of mine.” His vision snapped up to see a masked man, his father, coming toward him.

Blaise shifted his focus to block a different spell that had come from his left. His father continued throwing curses in quick succession, and it was a bit much to fight at once. He determinedly pressed forward, shielding and cursing and jinxing until he was panting. He thought he’d had it under control, switching back and forth with a sweat spreading profusely across his brow.

But the spells continued at a quicker and quicker pace, and, skilled as he was, he began to falter. Suddenly, he felt a stabbing pain in his left arm, which he grasped while directing his attention to the caster: his father.

His arm began to bleed, a large would present on his right bicep. He clutched it tightly, ducking a bright blue spell from overhead as he tried to squelch the bleeding.

The man approached him, taking a moment to reveal himself and tossing the mask aside.

Blaise paused, unable to react appropriately due to injury. He stood still, kind of stupidly if he had to be honest. It was just the shock of it all. And the blood loss. He was losing a lot of blood.

His father was face to face with him now, a wand digging harshly into his chest. Blaise met eyes with his patriarch and started. They were as pitch as the darkness surrounding them. A perfect match. Blaise said not a word and braced himself for what was to come. This, quite possibly, was the end.

His eyes scrunched tight, lids pressed firmly together as he feared the pain of death. There was a burning sensation, but not exactly what he expected.

The fire spread down his chest in a fine line, almost as if the wand was scraping his flesh. And, as quick as it had come, the pain receded.

The pressure lifted from his chest. His arm was still fixed to his side, clutched by white knuckles. He expected to feel light headed maybe? Or peaceful. But that’s not what he felt at all. He could still hear the whirring of chaos dancing about the room.

When he opened his eyes, he was stunned to find his father on the ground, eyes glued into a wide stare. Motionless.

“Blaise, honey, are you ok?”

Narcissa Malfoy stood to his right, examining his arm. Her wand was gripped tightly.

Blaise nodded, and she smiled softly. “He’ll wake up when this is all over. Don’t worry.” She placed a gentle hand on his uninjured shoulder.

“Mrs. Malfoy, what kind of magic is that? That’s one hell of a spell. You saved my life!”

“It just so happens I learned a trick or two from being married to the head of command. Come along, darling.” 

The two continued to fight alongside each other, upholding their position on the light’s side. Perhaps the world had turned upside down.


	28. The Battle of the Astronomy Tower

Harry awoke with a throbbing headache.  
What in the fuck had happened to him?

His hand immediately found the back of his skull, which was bleeding slightly. Fuck. His eyelids opened to reveal a world that was blurry, blending like water colors that kept changing position.

He blinked, shaking his head and attempting to ground himself. Whatever had happened, it surely wasn’t good.

After rubbing his eyes excessively with the back of his palms, the world began to come into focus. He was in a... classroom? His wand was next to him. He was against a wall.

FUCK. Pansy. The Astronomy Tower. Draco. Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy. He stood up with rapid haste but instantly found himself hugging the wall for support. As he attempted to move forward, his head rattled and ached and his vision kept leaving and coming back into focus.

Eventually, he found the door and entered the hallway of the 7th floor. Cloaking himself, he headed to the astronomy tower.

&&&

They were outnumbered, but the Death Eaters fought expertly and continued to hold their place against Dumbledore’s Army and the others.

Draco was dueling with an individual he presumed to be Crabbe’s father. The voice was husky and sounded familiar. He tried not to think about who he was fighting, but what he was fighting against.

He didn’t notice another masked man take interest in him. Like a predator, he stalked Draco slowly before sending a near deadly curse his way. The only one who wasn’t completely preoccupied was Dobby, who placed himself between the burst of light and his former commander.

“Not Mr. Malfoy, sir! You must NEVER hurt Mr. Malfoy!” The house elf scolded the brute man before using his own powerful magic to bring the curse to a stop mid-air. He then snapped, and the light diminished completely.

Draco defeated his enemy and turned to Dobby with a smile. “Thank you so much, friend. You quite possibly saved my life.”

Dobby’s eyes were huge and glossy with appreciative tears. He bowed before disapparating to pounce upon another member of Voldemort’s army.

Lucius Malfoy overpowered both Snape Dumbledore before directing his attention to one individual in particular. Now that his tattered robes drug the floor behind him, he had one goal in mind. Draco Malfoy would pay. He would end his son, if it was the last thing he did tonight.

&&&

Harry’s vision resolved almost completely to its former state when approximately a quarter of his journey remained. He kept himself veiled, thoroughly invisible and contained.

Once he considered himself almost totally revitalized, his gallop turned into a sprint that led him to the base of the astronomy tower. He could hear the commotion, spells being fired and bodies thrown chaotically. He only hoped his side was winning. And that a certain someone was wholly okay.

&&&

A piercing shriek caught the attention of everyone in the Great Hall. All heads turned to a first year Ravenclaw whose index finger was pointing above them. The rest of the students craned their necks to see what had caused such a reaction. Some froze. Some screamed. Some hid their faces. 

Hovering in the center of the enchanted ceiling was none other than the smokey fog of the Dark Mark.

McGonnagall’s hand clasped tightly over her mouth. It seemed that the worst was upon them.

“Settle down! Settle down now!” She attempted to regain control of the crowd of now raveling students, who fell silent at her command.

“I assure you that the safest place to be is in fact where you are. None of you are to move.” A few suspicious glances landed on the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables, who were both missing a handful of members.

McGonnagall’s eyes rested on each vacant seat, and pieces began to fit into ideas. Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy she knew to be with the Head Master. But the others?

Ronald Weasley... Hermione Granger... Neville Longbottom...Ginny Weasley... the Finnigan and Thomas boys... oh, no. She knew that their absence could only mean one thing. As worried as the professor and head of house was for their safety, she couldn’t help but beam proudly.

She knew that they would stop at nothing to save the school.

&&&

Pansy wasn’t prepared to face her father. She had made quite possibly the greatest and most impacting decision of her life just a few moments ago, but the fallout was something she was unprepared for.

When she found herself separated from Draco and dueling an unknown Death Eater, her confidence was unwavering. She’d switched alliances, like so many others recently, and it felt fucking great. Like she’d finally made her own way. Like she didn’t belong to her father or to Draco or to anyone. She could live her own life, cross the beaten path, and succeed. She was Pansy Fucking Parkinson, and no one could defeat her.

Her spell work was superior. She wasn’t beneath using dark magic to further her own agenda, and she’d picked up a few tricks along the way from daddy dearest. It wasn’t long before her masked enemy found himself bleeding on the floor. She was sure he wouldn’t die; the spell wasn’t powerful enough. But it sure as hell would leave him incapacitated for the time being.

She smiled internally, impressed by her win. Until an authoritative voice caused her to freeze in her tracks.

“You’ve betrayed us. You’re no better than the Malfoy boy, Pansy. And you deserve no better.”

She turned to face her father, whose wand was pointed solidly in her direction. Pansy stole a sharp inspiration, attempting to grasp her assertiveness in the presence of the man who had torn her down for most of her life.

The fear of being held at wandpoint crept from the crown of her head into the tips of her toes. She gulped, joining eyes with her opponent. The man she’d done everything for, given everything to.

And then, in a flash, the memory of his words echoed through her skull in a rapid montage: “The Dark Lord’s purpose comes before everything, even the ones we love.” And that’s when she realized that she meant absolutely nothing to him.

It didn’t matter how much she’d fought for his approval. She’d finished the impossible, allowed Voldemort into Dumbledore’s safe haven. And still, she was at the receiving end of his wrath.

She suddenly understood why Draco had rebelled. It all came booming into an epiphany that she would never let go. Potter was right. Dumbledore was right. Blaise was right. Draco... was right.

Courage bloomed from her core and spread like a warmth throughout her body. She began to raise her wand in retaliation, but she was too late. Her father was already mouthing the spell that would become her end.

&&&

Neville’s face hit the floor in a bloody mess after being thrown forcefully by a curse that he hadn’t seen coming.

He groaned, fully aware of his broken nose and the bruising that had already begun to form on his right temple. He began to push himself upward but fell unsuccessfully as the curse still worked against his motor skills.

“Neville!” Hermione ran towards the boy worriedly. Ron continued to fight confidently, handling himself quite well (to his own amazement).

She stooped beside him, evaluating his condition and casting an “episkey” once she noticed his injury. 

Neville scrunched his face in response, breaking into a grin as Hermione helped him stand. “Thank you! It feels much better now.”

Hermione smiled before both of them ducked an overhead spell. Neville spun to resume his battle while Hermione’s head snapped up to witness a situation she had no chance of saving. 

Before her was Pansy Parkinson with an expression of determination and bravery that Hermione had never seen from her. Across a redeemed Pansy was the man Hermione had come to know as Cassius Parkinson with his wand aimed directly at his daughter’s heart. Pansy was lifting her wand. She was going to try to defend herself. Hermione shrieked, fully aware that her father was reacting faster.

“NO! PANSY!” She cried helplessly as Cassius Parkinson began mouthing the words “Avada Kedavra.” There was nothing Hermione could do.

&&&

Pansy braced herself for the inevitable. There was no shield charm strong enough to block a killing curse; she was aware of this. Her wand was raised but no spell was faster than her father’s. She subconsciously shut her eyes and prayed it would be painless.

The Unforgivable Curse was a few syllables away from ending her life. He’d already begun to speak the words, voice dripping with poison as toxic as the spell itself. Time moved sluggishly, dragging on in an eternity that Pansy wished would hurry itself along.

The next few words that Pansy could distinguish were not the ones she was expecting. The voices were not her father’s but belonged familiarly to her comrades.

She made out the voice of Hermione Granger, screaming her own name. The second voice sounded much closer, but she couldn’t seem to figure out who it belonged to. The closest male to her was Seamus Finnigan, whose focus was nowhere near her. No, this was someone else.

“Expelliarmus!” The words spoken by this mystery individual were the ones that saved her life.

Her jaw dropped when she opened her eyes to see her father utterly disarmed, wand nowhere to be found. She instantly took it upon herself to disable him, stunning him with a power she had never realized existed within her being.

He was thrown backward several meters, losing consciousness against the unforgiving stone of the floor.

She glanced around to thank her savior, unable to quite place the voice she’d heard. He had vanished, though she quickly realized that she’d never seen him to begin with. As she hurried along to her next encounter, a somewhat of an epiphany struck her in a sudden fashion.

It was quite impossible, but she was sure of it. The voice that had saved her skin was Harry Potter’s.

&&&

“YOU.”

Draco pivoted abruptly to witness the man before him: Long, Platinum hair much like his own draping against burnt robes that adorned an irate physique. Lucius Malfoy’s lungs were heaving, anger suffocating him from the inside out. His shoulders were slumped exhaustedly but his wand was held ever steady at its target.

Those ravenous, crazy eyes covered Draco’s skin in goose pimples. He’d never seen his father like this. There was no poise remaining, no stoic apathy. His once stone expression had turned into a passionate and wild look of insanity.

“Stupefy!” Draco cried, but Lucius’s newfound desire for revenge made him all but invincible. He wordlessly blocked the spell. Draco stepped backward.

Lucius stalked forward frightfully, unaware of anyone but himself, his son, and his vendetta.

“Immobulus! Petrificus totalus! Locomotor Mortis!” Draco’s attempts were futile. Lucius blocked them all effortlessly and continued forward robotically.

“Duro! Incendio! Incarcerous!” Sparks were flying hopelessly from the end of the hawthorn, creating a friction that sent electrical energy whizzing in the air between them.

Lucius came to a halt, huffing profusely with one goal in mind. Draco’s eyes were wide with fear and anticipation. His legs were frozen, a helpless target for his father to indulge upon.

Draco knew he didn’t have it in him to kill his father. He could hardly cast an Unforgivable, let alone embrace the rage it would take to successfully end a life.

His father, on the other hand, was dripping with anger so harsh that Draco took an additional step backward. Pansy had already saved him once. He knew he’d run out of chances.

Lucius Malfoy straightened suddenly, lips pulling into a malicious grin.

“Any last words, Draco?” He chuckled frenziedly, wand held in place.

Draco gulped, his own wand still forward but lacking any additional spellwork. He didn’t dare lower it, even if it served him no good to wield it.

He inspired deeply, brow narrowing in newfound determination. He may have lost everything in this moment, but he didn’t have to lose his dignity.

“Yeah. Fuck you, Father.”

Lucius’s ravenous grin incontinently morphed into an offended and flabbergasted frown. He hadn’t been expecting Draco’s defiance to present itself quite so boldly.

Draco smirked at his father’s unexpected change in manner, knowing he’d blind-sighted him. He’d lived most of his life indebting himself to this man; he didn’t have to die that way.

He relaxed at this acceptance. He didn’t flinch when his father collected all of his rage into one instant moment, directing everything that had led up to it thus far in the direction of his son.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A green light emerged from the tip of Lucius Malfoy’s wand and streaked across the air blindingly.

It cast an eerie glow about the room and caused many of the others from both sides to stop and observe the happenings before them.

It became all too evident what was happening. Hermione screamed. Ron’s jaw hung helplessly.

Seamus and Dean were huddled together with looks of disbelief plastered across their own expressions. Hannah’s hand was clasped tightly over her mouth. Susan had buried her head in Macmillan’s shirt.

Ginny was frozen to the spot. Luna cast a shield charm around her just in case. Cho began to sob, and Neville shrieked.

Several Death Eaters cackled and cheered. Snape’s expression contorted into an incapable and regretful frown. Both he and Dumbledore took the distracted opportunity to incapacitate a multitude of enemies.

Pansy, Blaise, and Narcissa rushed forward in a foolish attempt to try and save him. They were unfortunately much too slow and never had a chance.

Dobby and the House elves stood wide eyed, unable to do much else. Even House elf magic couldn’t withstand an Unforgivable. It seemed as if this was really the end.

Draco had rescued Harry and his friends so many times in each nightmare that had morphed into a pleasant dream while Harry slept. And here, in a frigid reality, there was no one to save him.

Maybe Dumbledore was wrong, and love meant jack shit when it came to facing Voldemort’s reality. Or maybe, he wasn’t.

The bright lime light inched through the air as each microsecond passed. Draco refused to blink. It squirmed forward like a snake whose venom was out to paralyze its victim and rob it’s life.

It continued forward for what seemed like forever... when suddenly, it transformed into a bright white light that had everyone in the room shielding their eyes. It hadn’t yet reached Draco, hovering about a meter ahead of him. A wind seemed to flow outward from the spell, brushing Draco’s hair away from his face and anticipatory countenance.

The light resonated from the center of the curse, growing blindingly and illuminating the entire room. Draco squinted but refused to look away. What in the fuck was happening?

Lucius stared confusedly, wondering why the hell Draco was still standing.

A silence enveloped the room as the light seemed to explode, emanating from the center of the curse outward. It burst throughout the room with an unspoken energy that rippled in waves and vibrations that each bystander could feel.

A sharp breeze rustled the robes of everyone present, most of which had stopped to observe what was happening. And then, the light diminished. And it was dark again, albeit the silver cast of the moonlight that shaded the tower.

Draco stood unharmed. He didn’t dare breathe, let alone move a muscle. All was motionless, frozen with the present moment. His focus shifted to the space between himself and his father, where the curse had diminished. That’s when he saw them.

A pair of round glasses with damaged frames lying askew a few feet in front of him.

His pupils dilated in a sudden and abrupt understanding of what had just happened. Oh my god, the curse hadn’t failed... it’d missed its fucking target. And suddenly Draco was on the floor, crawling forward and patting in front of him until he came across an invisible but solid presence.

He hastily removed Harry’s invisibility cloak only to see the boy lying completely motionless in a heap before him.

His eyes were shut, mouth rested closed into a relaxed line. His body was limp against the surface of the floor.

It was as if someone had kicked Draco square in the gut without mercy. His breath had been knocked clear from his chest, and he suddenly found himself gasping for air. His hands were trembling as they reached forward to caress the boy before him. His fingers trailed down pale cheeks in disbelief. He ran his hands along his chest and refused to believe that it wasn’t rising. He was sleeping. The curse had put him to sleep, that was all. He was Harry Fucking Potter, the Goddamn Boy Who Lived and he refused to believe...

He was audibly gasping now and could feel everyone’s eyes boring into him. Somehow, they weren’t there. To Draco, the room was empty. It was him, and Harry, and oh my god... Harry...

He found himself scooping his lifeless body into his arms, cradling him like a child who needed redemption. His head was tucked into the fold of Draco’s arm, hanging limply as long fingers brushed raven black hair from his face.

“Shh, Harry, it’s ok. It’s ok, Harry.” Draco realized that he was rocking the boy, slouching forward and backward like a lullaby that ensured he was only sleeping.

Hermione found tears streaking her face. Ron’s eyes were glassy but firm. No one dared to move, as if by preserving the moment, they could preserve his life.

And then, Harry didn’t respond to Draco’s woos. And Draco began to sob.

“Harry, you Goddamn prat, why the fuck would you do this? I need you. I fucking love you. You can’t. Do this.” He was hunched over him now, Harry’s face tucked into the space between Draco’s neck and shoulder. Never had he felt such an emptiness settle within his soul.

“Harry... Harry... please, Harry... I love you...” he was choking on his own tears, rounds of sobs lodging in his throat. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fucking move, he couldn’t think...

He cried. And he fucking cried. And Harry didn’t move, no matter how vulnerable he became. The end had inevitably occurred. And Draco couldn’t fucking think.

So he continued to sob.

&&&

“Oh, no... fuck....” Lucius Malfoy regrettably stumbled upon his words as Draco hovered over Harry’s deceased corpse.

He had done the Unforgivable himself. He had broken the Dark Lord’s command. His eyes were wide with confusion and fear at what the fuck he’d just done.

His wand was held loosely by his side. He watched his son cling to the boy in disbelief. There was no coming back from this.

He backed away slowly, attempting to move inconspicuously as he neared the edge of the tower. His next plan was to make a run for it before the Dark Lord took it upon himself to end his own life.

He took a few more steps and attempted briskly to turn and run, only to stumble face first into Dumbledore, Snape, and Dobby. With a snap of Dobby’s fingers, Lucius was face first on the ground. Snape took it upon himself to paralyze the man while Dumbledore conjured and fastened extremely powerful magical handcuffs around his wrists and hands. He struggled to break free to no avail, gritting his teeth in wild determination. Snape’s paralyzation charm was too much to fight against.

At the sight of their leader arrested, the remaining Death Eaters began having apparent second thoughts. Some backed away slowly; others turned to run.

Anger fumed like wildfire through each individual of Dumbledore’s Army. Neville fired curses at several men who tried to flee, halting them abruptly and allowing Dumbledore and Snape to fasten their hands and feet.

Hermione and Ron passionately incapacitated four more men who were attempting to leave unnoticed.

Cassius Parkinson was edging toward the stair case when Pansy noticed the look of fear upon his face. This was her goddamned chance.

She lifted her wand without hesitation and fired an immobulus. His eyes widened as the charm lit the air between them with an iridescent blue. 

“Pansy!” He fell backwards, unable to move. “Revive me! I am your father. I’ve been here for you since birth. How can you betray me?”

Pansy strolled toward him and squatted until she was nearly face level with the man. “Because, Dad, some things are more important than the ones we love.”

She cocked her head shrewdly and rose, gesturing to Snape and Dumbledore.

“We’ve got one over here, boys.”

“You think this is over, you brat!?” Dumbledore fastened the cuffs around her father. “This is never over! When the Dark Lord reigns, you will be the first he’ll want dead!”

Pansy shrugged. “See you, then.” And she walked away as Snape paralyzed the man.


	29. Beyond the Veil

“I’ve sent a patronus to Kingsley Shacklebolt. The aurors will be here shortly to collect the bodies.” Dumbledore and Professor Snape stood tall against an array of incapacitated Death Eaters scattered about the astronomy tower.

Severus nodded. A silence befell the tower as the two men turned their attention to the group of teenagers whose stare was fixated upon the center of the room.

Ron and Hermione held each other as silent tears ran down their faces. Seamus and Dean stared solemnly. Hannah’s face was buried in Neville’s robes as he bit back his own cries.

No one moved a muscle as they observed Draco absolutely losing what sanity he’d managed to retain.

His back flexed and contracted harshly with each sob. A part of him was in complete denial that the Harry lying in his arms would never move again.

He held Harry close, closer than he’d ever before. His hands gripped each shoulder blade and pulled them tightly against his body. Harry was much colder than he should be. Draco was trying to warm him, to transfer any bit of heat into his lifeless body as if he’d come out of hibernation like a cold blooded snake.

His tears were falling forward, landing in droplets that splashed against Potter’s pale skin. There were no words to describe the emptiness that was beginning to consume Draco Malfoy.

“Harry, come on Harry, wake up, love.” He pulled back to gaze at Harry’s face, resting the statuesque body against his lap and taking his head between both hands. His voice was shrill, desperate.

“We did it, Harry. We beat them. You beat them. I’m so, so proud of you.” He smiled and chuckled innocently while tracing his thumbs in circles along hollow cheek bones. He then brushed nimble fingers through tendrils of raven hair affectionately.

“I love you, Harry. I love you so damn much. Wake up for me. We have so much life to live together.” The utter desperation and blatant need was evident with each syllable. He teetered on the edge of bargaining and denial.

Harry didn’t move.

Draco’s insides contorted, twisted, and fucking cracked as a new round of sobs formed a painful bubble in the back of his throat.

“Please, Potter. Please.” He begged for the impossible. “Please don’t leave me. I need you. I fucking need you so much.”

He leaned over his body once more as what little hope he’d held on to was lost. The bubble he’d held tightly in place burst and escaped in a waterfall of sobs that refused to be quelled.

His entire face felt prickly and swollen and like it would explode at any moment. His stomach was a protruding knot that only tightened with each passing moment that Harry Potter ceased to be the Boy Who Lived. Grief did not begin to cover this.

He would’ve traded anything, given anything, done ANYTHING to have him open those emerald eyes. The ones he couldn’t live without. The ones he would have to live without.

And all of the pain transformed into an anger so fiery red that he knew he’d implode if he tried to contain it.

“God damn it, Potter! Why!? Why would you do this? Why do you always have to be the GodDamn hero!? Fuck!”

He didn’t say another word but settled for the muffled sobs that continued to pour relentlessly. His grip on Potter didn’t soften though his knuckles were a raw white. Nobody said a word.

Severus approached Draco cautiously and placed a sympathetic hand on the surface of his shoulder.

“Draco. It’s time to leave.”

He had no reply. His blonde hair clung to his forehead in all the wrong places, dripping with sweat and mucus and tears. His cheeks were stained with filth and sobs and oil that tended to appear in times of stress. He looked and felt like war.

He silently pulled himself together, what little he had left. He rose slowly.

Harry was cradled, limp within his arms. Draco refused to loosen his hold on the boy as he stepped sluggishly, one foot at a time, toward the stair case. He met eyes with no one.

Each step was a hollow beginning to a life that Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to live. He knew that Voldemort had to be defeated. But he also knew that Harry had to be the one to win. What would Dumbledore’s Army do now, without the Chosen One? What would Draco do, without the one he’d chosen?

His shoulders slumped forward as each foot trudged the stairs. He stole a glance at the boy wrapped tightly in his arms. He was so peaceful; he could really just be asleep. Having one of those dreams he’d confessed to having about the two of them. Draco felt the edge of his lips turn upward at the thought.

His lips remained a ruby red, though the rest of his face was ghostly. Memories traced the outline of Draco’s thoughts. Those lips parting willingly, inviting Draco inside. Pleading for more contact. Desiring nothing but each other.

Harry’s fingers caressing Draco’s cheeks, and his stomach, and his chest, and oh god, how wonderful those fingers had felt upon his skin...nothing could compare. Nothing would ever compare.

There were smiles and chuckles and a warmth that Draco had never experienced before Harry. Life had been so cold without him... his spine quivered with a chill as he dropped another step. He could feel the winter seeping in again, coating his bones and threatening to rob the summer that Harry had shared with him.

There were no more tears, only a hollow carcass that Draco knew he was becoming. When he reached the base of the astronomy tower, he checked to make sure he was alone before propping himself against the stone and sliding to the ground. He needed a moment of solitude with Harry before the ambush of teachers and aurors threatened to take him.

His knees were bent with Harry resting against the hard surface of Draco’s thighs. He gazed once more at his porcelain-like features, frozen in a state of tranquility that showed to be most beautiful.

An impulse settled upon Draco, and there was something he knew he needed to do before he could let him go.

&&&

Harry’s world was pitch black. He blinked a few times, attempting to let his vision adjust. Was he still in the astronomy tower?

He stood, feeling his way through the darkness. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

When silence followed, it was evident that he was alone. His voice echoed throughout the nothingness impossibly.

He stretched his hands outward like antennae, grasping for the surface of wall or structure. But it appeared that this mystery place was entirely vacant.

Fuck, was he... oh fuck. Memories flooded him of his last moments. He remembered ascending the steps to the astronomy tower whilst trying not to stumble against the cloak. He’d seen Pansy, clearly in distress and on the side of Dumbledore’s Army. The sight was all too familiar to Harry and he knew at once that she, like the love of his life, had switched alliances. It was an easy feat to forgive her.

He used his invisibility to disarm her father and continued on his mission to find Draco.

Hastily, he’d turned to his left to see Draco standing his ground valiantly. Thank Merlin, he was ok. He’d breathed a sigh of relief before throwing a random curse here or there to help the others. His eyes never strayed from the blonde.

And that’s when he noticed Lucius Malfoy take a personal interest in the young man. He was stomping forward invincibly. Draco began to fire an array of spells in his direction, all blocked without so much as the lift of a finger. This was true anger.

Harry noticed Draco’s grey eyes become cloudy with fear. Lucius’s hunt continued. There was nothing he could do.

And then Harry had realized what was happening. He’d been here before, in a nightmare. A sort of familiar deja vu swept him from the ground up, leaving a trace of goose pimples in its wake.

He wouldn’t let Draco die this time. He wouldn’t allow his father to rob one more thing from the boy that he loved. Without a second thought, he lurched forward and closed the gap between them.

The next thing he remembered was a sharp, stabbing pain in the center of his chest and the brightest white light he’d ever seen. He tried to make sense of what was happening, but all too soon everything had turned black.

And here he was.

He continued to prod about this odd sort of purgatory, praying he’d find some reprieve. He never thought death would be so utterly... empty.

He wondered what would happen if he quit searching; if he gave up and laid back down and went to sleep. Would he find peace? Did such tranquility exist without Draco?

Was this experience the same for all who had faced death? Was this the same place that found his mother and father so many years ago?

“No.”

The voice that broke the uncomfortable silence came from directly behind him. It was a confident, heavenly voice that seemed to brighten the area without a single light. Harry abruptly pivoted, needing to see the owner of such a musical sound.

He gasped at the sight before him. There, standing with a resonating pale glow, was an angelic woman with copper red hair. He’d seen her before, but only in pictures and the occasional steal from the Mirror of Erised. His lips formed a relaxed smile, finally feeling the peace that he’d expected.

“Mom.” He didn’t dare move; he was afraid that any slight twitch would make her disappear. He’d been waiting his entire life for this moment.

“Harry.” She beamed, smiling softly at her son. “I’m so proud of you.”

There was a flash of light, and Harry squinted to keep his focus. He couldn’t stand to lose her, not when they’d just been re-united.

The darkness settled around them once more to reveal two more silhouettes, bodies glowing with a ghostly haze. Harry found himself unable to speak.

Before him was his mother, now accompanied by the face he knew to belong to his father. Harry fought the urge to embrace the both of them; his fear that they would somehow suddenly disappear beneath his hands was prevalent.

Beside his father was the all too familiar figure of Sirius Black. Harry found himself choking back tears as he watched them all smiling softly in his direction.

“Son.” James spoke, beaming in the same fashion as Lily.

“Harry.” Sirius winked and nodded with acknowledgment. “It’s good to see you again.”

“I-I... It’s so wonderful to see you all.” Tears began to flow freely down Harry’s cheeks.

“We love you, Harry. We’ve missed you so, so much.” Lily was tearing up, her smile fixed in place warmly.

“What you did, son... it was the most noble thing you can do for someone. There are no words to describe how proud you’ve made us.” James locked eyes with Harry genuinely. He choked on the tears that continued to well up from his throat.

“When you sacrifice yourself for someone you love, things happen. Things that cannot be explained.” Sirius added, gesturing toward Lily. “Your mother’s love for you defeated Voldemort. Your love for Draco saved him from his father.”

Harry paused, allowing the words to soak deep beneath his skin. Draco. He’d... saved... Draco. That meant that no matter what had brought him to this place... Draco was safe. As much as the absence of the boy ached, he could rest knowing that fact.

“I love you, all. Thank you.” Harry stepped closer to the trio but refrained from reaching out to them.

“When you love someone, Harry. It’s important to never give up on them. At all costs.” His father spoke with a heavy seriousness that made Harry question whether there was an underlying message involved. He nodded, a thousand questions racing through his mind.

A silence settled between them, and Harry couldn’t help but blurt what was hanging at the forefront of his mind.

“Do I get to come with you all?”

No one answered right away. The silence caused Harry’s skin to crawl, and he wondered frantically if he’d be stuck in the nothingness forever.

Finally, his mother spoke.

“You are more than welcome to come with us, my love, if that is what you choose. We would love to have you.” Her smile remained, soft tears streaming down her cheeks.

“If I choose? What other choice do I have?” Harry’s confusion was evident in the cracking of his voice and the way his eyebrows pulled upward concernedly.

“You can come with us,” his father gestured to either side of himself, “or... you can go back.”

Harry felt his knees weaken. “Go back? To the astronomy tower?”

Sirius nodded. “To Draco.”

“I- I don’t understand. I’m dead. You’re dead. We’re all dead. How can I get to go back?”

“Like I said,” Sirius continued, “things happen when you give up yourself for the ones you love.”

Harry suddenly felt frantic. Here were the people he wanted more than anything to join for an eternity. To get to know the ins and outs of... because he’d never been given the chance.

He wanted to cuddle his mother and learn to play ball with his father and get bad advice from his uncle. He found himself sobbing in a manner quite unlike his earlier cries.

He felt helpless. He gazed ahead of him, soaking in the faces of his loved ones. He pictured himself in heaven, spending forever with his family.

And then he saw Draco, whose father had never smiled at him like his own was at the moment. He thought of those crystal gray eyes, piercing and honest and sharp as a sword that could perforate him whole.

He thought of “I love you’s” and forevers and making love.

He remembered his late night drunken revelation that staying away from Draco wouldn’t protect him.

He pondered those soft lips, and how they’d resurrected everything good within Harry. How he couldn’t remember living any sort of life without them. Without him.

He focused back on the adults before him. And that’s when he realized that... he was no longer a child. Yes, he’d forever want his mother and his father. He’d eternally wish to make up for everything that they’d lost because of Voldemort. But, as much as he wanted them... he didn’t need them.

What he needed was a chance at defeating the Dark Lord. He needed to see his friends laughing and making memories in a world where Voldemort was no longer feared. He needed... Draco. And Draco needed him.

He gulped, afraid of what was to come. If he said no, this would be the last he would see of his family. That hurt more than he’d intended it to.

His head hung, knowing the right thing was to go against everything within him that wanted to run straight ahead to his family. His feet remained planted in the darkness.

“Harry, my dear, sweet Harry.” His mother’s voice was as comforting as ever, and he never wanted to let it go. He didn’t dare look up to meet identical green eyes. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to look away.

And then, a miracle happened.

A warmth tingled across his skin as he felt three pairs of arms wrap tightly around him. He gasped, choking on sobs that were stifled by the sudden contact.

He rested his cheek on his mother’s shoulder, nestling his face in her clothing and vowing to never forget her scent. There were several pats on his back from his father followed by the tight grasp of Sirius Black against his arm.

This was heaven.

And it was going to be so hard to leave.

They stayed like this for what seemed an eternity. What could have very well been one. Harry knew that their moment had ended when he felt his mother slowly retract.

“It’s time, my love.” The three had formed a line across from him once more. Harry nodded determinedly, not allowing himself to cry again.

“What is your decision, son?” His father’s solemn and reserved expression gave nothing of his opinion on the matter.

“I...” Harry paused, swallowing. “I have to go back.”

“I think you’ve made the right choice, my boy.” Sirius winked as the edges of his mustache turned upward into proud grin.

Harry nodded, unsure of what to expect next. Was it going to hurt?

“Until next time, Harry. We’ll be waiting.”  
His mother gave him one last loving smile and leaned forward to leave a lasting peck on the surface of his cheek.

And then, in a flash, they were gone. And Harry was alone in the darkness.

&&&

Draco inched his face forward, aware of how awkward and senseless this was. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. He just knew somewhere deep down, with that Gryffindor sense that Harry had somehow instilled into his subconscious, that this was something he needed to do. He continued to lean forward until his face approached Harry’s. With only inches between them, his mind’s eye revisited the first time they’d kissed.

They were two teens that were never meant to be together. Opposite ends of the earth couldn’t have stretched the distance placed between them by their heritage. And yet, they’d found love in the middle of the school loo.

It was impossible, improbable, and yet nothing had ever felt so right in Draco’s entire life. And he’d decided that Harry Potter was it for him.

His nose brushed against Harry’s gently. Merlin, his scent was still prevalent and Draco was taken back to burning logs and hot cocoa. He choked back the tears that had threatened to resurface at such familiarity. Throwing hesitation to the wind, his lips parted and he moved to join them to Harry’s.

As lips were on the brink of becoming flush, Draco felt a prickling sensation from the hair on his posterior arms standing rigid.

His body, he quickly realized, was responding to something he’d felt. Hot, heavenly, impossible...

Breath.

He felt the soft caress of breath brush smoothly across his lips.

He jerked backward, eyes scanning the boy’s face for any sign that what he’d felt had been real. For a moment, nothing happened, and Draco knew he’d been hallucinating.

But then... emerald eyes flashed open. And Harry began to gasp for air.

A burning fire lit in the empty space that had consumed Draco Malfoy. Suddenly, the ice began to thaw. His organs began to untwist, and...

“Harry.” It was a whisper, afraid that if any volume was added the last few seconds would disappear as fast as they had come.

Harry Potter jerked upward, heaving and panting and doing anything he could to catch his breath. Apparently resurrection knocked the wind from you.

“Oh my god. Fuck! Harry!” Draco placed a soothing hand on his back, supporting the boy as he caught air.

Soon enough, it became easier to breathe, and Harry’s lips quirked into a smile that melted every bit of Draco’s winter.

Draco blinked in disbelief, afraid that if he moved Harry would fall limp and lifeless once more. His own breath quickened as the color in Harry’s cheeks resurfaced. Bloody hell, he was... he was alive!

“Harry, what the... how did you-“

Draco’s concerns were muted by Harry all but throwing himself against him. He grasped Draco’s face between his hands and pressed their lips violently together, savoring the moment that had almost been infinitely stolen from them.

Draco thrust his arms around Harry’s body in an embrace that he vowed to never relinquish.

Harry didn’t need Heaven; he’d found it right here. He was ever present, never faltering, a newfound strength blooming between the likes of himself and Draco Malfoy. He now knew that he’d allow nothing and no one to come between himself and what he so thankfully held in his arms.

They separated, disbelief staining Draco’s expression, even mid-snog.

“Harry, I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but can you please promise me that whatever brought you back isn’t going to take you away again?” His voice began to crack in place of inflection.

“I promise. I love you, Draco Malfoy. I’m staying right here.” Emerald eyes pierced silver with an honesty that Draco could never mistake. He felt himself relax.

“Thank God, Harry. I can’t do this without you.” And Draco pulled him into a hug that brought a mutual understanding of never letting go.

&&&

“Harry!” The shrieks of Hermione caused Draco and Harry to separate briefly, smiling subtly at each other in understanding.

Hermione sprinted down the final steps of the astronomy tower with Ron in tow.

Draco and Harry stood so that she could pull him into a suffocatingly tight embrace. Ron followed, and Hermione let him go with a confused but grateful expression. There were several pats on the back as Ron whispered “I’m so glad you’re back, mate. I really thought we’d lost you.”

Harry grinned as they pulled apart.

He didn’t have a chance to explain his phenomena as there were more foot steps approaching.

Down the steps came Professor Snape, who looked as if he’d seen Death himself when his eyes landed on Harry.

“Potter-how...”

Harry shrugged, smile still plastered on his face.

Snape said nothing but bore a contemplative look that suggested his growing acceptance of the situation.

“Potter, We’ve got to get you out of here before the Death Eaters figure out that you’re anything but dead.” He stepped forward, prepared to lead the way to Harry’s concealment.

“Draco, help Mr. Potter to Madam Pomfrey. Granger. Weasley. You head back up to give your statements the the aurors when they arrive. Do not mention this.”

Ron and Hermione nodded and gave Harry apologetic looks before heading back up the stairs.

Snape began to lead the way to the infirmary, keeping a sharp eye for anyone that might witness Harry alive.

He turned back subtly, a cheek appearing over his right shoulder. “By the way, it’s good to have you back, Potter.”

Harry started at Professor Snape’s sentiment and felt a squeeze from Draco’s hand to his. He nodded at the Slytherin head of House.

“It’s good to be back, sir.”

Snape smirked and continued onward to Madam Pomfrey.


	30. The Deathly Hallows

Draco refused to leave Harry’s side. After Harry was settled in one of the hospital beds and had undergone a rigorous evaluation by Madam Pomfrey herself, the conclusion was that he would stay over night.

She didn’t seem to find anything wrong, other than a nasty contusion on the back of his head that she remedied with a healing salve.

Professor Snape informed Madam Pomfrey of Harry’s situation and she vowed to let no one other than his friends and those who could be trusted within her sight.

She didn’t even object to Draco staying the night, though she pretended not to acknowledge that it was happening.

It was just Harry and Draco for the rest of the evening. After Madam Pomfrey cut the lights off, Draco crawled into Harry’s twin bed and wrapped his arms snugly around his waist.

His body was a perfect match against Harry’s; every nook and crevice complimented the other in a puzzle-like fit.

Harry scooted backward in an effort to push himself closer to Draco. His buttocks unintentionally rubbed against Draco’s pelvis, causing a reactionary shudder to travel down the length of his spine.

“Harry, love,” He whispered. Harry smiled at the tickle of Draco’s breath against his cheek.

“Yes?” He rolled over to face him, wrapping his arms around Draco’s biceps.

“Do you... remember anything?”

Harry inhaled, preparing himself.

“Yes.”

He informed Draco about his experience beyond the veil. About his parents and Sirius and the difficult choice he had to make. He assured him that it was him all along, and that there really was no other option.

“I know how hard that must’ve been for you, Harry.” Draco paused, collecting his thoughts. “But thank you. I need you. The world needs you. Thank you for always being the selfless Gryffindor that you are.”

Harry grinned, leaning closer. “So you think Gryffindors aren’t half bad, then, yeah?”

Draco smiled lovingly before rolling his eyes. “I didn’t say that, you prat. You still stink, the lot of you.”

Harry beamed at his boyfriend. It seemed as if everything had somehow miraculously fallen into place.

Draco pressed his lips to Harry’s softly, careful not to overwhelm him. After all, he’d been through enough that night, what with the dying and all.

But Harry had other plans. Immediately, his mouth parted in an invitation for Draco to lurch inside. Their tongues caressed inseparably, and Draco, despite everything, felt his prick stiffen immediately.

He wasn’t the only one who’d felt it. Harry smiled around their kiss, sensing Draco’s desire and butting his hips forward to oblige. A small groan escaped Draco’s throat, and Harry responded by sliding a hand gracefully beneath his shirt.

The feeling of Harry’s fingers on his bare chest was a sensation that Draco had feared he’d never experience again. His fingertips left tingling skin in their wake, like sparks that jumped and popped into fireworks.

Draco returned the favor by sliding his own hands beneath the blue striped pajama top that Madam Pomfrey had issued Harry to wear for the evening. He felt him shiver longingly at the feel of his touch, and this didn’t help his raging libido.

You wouldn’t have thought they’d slept together only hours before this moment. Harry began to tug desperately at the ends of Draco’s shirt, pulling it over his head with haste. They continued to kiss feverishly, Harry’s hands drawing circles on the surface of Draco’s bare back.

It turns out that death and overcoming it was somewhat of an aphrodisiac. Harry took Draco’s hands in each of his own and guided them to the buttons on his top, which he willingly unfastened. When his chest was unveiled, Draco shrugged the shirt from his shoulders and threw it to the side. And then they were kissing again, mashing lips and tongue and souls and,  
god, it was beautiful.

Harry was the first to move down there. He slipped his hand inconspicuously down the front of Draco’s pants, sliding past the elastic of his underwear and gripping every part of his member.

Draco tilted his head back, pleasure emanating from his groin and masking his expression. Harry moved his hand forward and back, up, and down, until Draco was absolutely squirming.

He rested his head in the crook of Harry’s neck, kissing the space softly and clinging to the skin with his mouth while Harry continued to work at him.

He bit softly, as if he could bite back his impending orgasm. He couldn’t help but thrust his hips forward in time with Harry’s strokes, small whimpers escaping his throat as he was unable to control himself.

Harry grinned at Draco’s eagerness and paused to undo his zipper, tugging his pants downward to mid-thigh. Draco’s own hands quickly found their way to the elastic band of Harry’s pajama bottoms, yanking them to match his own. He moaned when he realized that Harry wasn’t wearing underwear.

Harry’s cock was swollen and red with anticipation. Draco blushed and licked his lips as he eyed it hungrily, moving his hands to Harry’s hips in response. Harry placed his own palms o Draco’s buttocks, pulling him closer so that their cocks were touching. 

“Ngh,” The noise belonged to Harry, who was smitten with this moment. Merlin, he was alive, and breathing, pushed firmly against Draco. There was nothing else he wanted in the world.

Feeling frisky, Harry rolled his body so that Draco was beneath him. They were concealed by sheets, but that didn’t stop Draco from peering sideways for any sign of Madam Pomfrey.

Eventually, hormones won out and Harry kicked his own pants off the rest of the way for better leverage against Draco. Draco smirked and slid his own pants the rest of the way off, the feeling of complete nakedness against the one he loved a raw and genuine thing.

Their dicks were coated in pre-cum, an anticipatory reaction that helped them glide against each other. Harry continued to thrust his pelvis forward, arching so that his prick rubbed against Draco’s at just the right spot.

He could feel Draco shake beneath him, overly stimulated and begging for release. “Oh god, Harry, please don’t stop.”

“I love you, Draco. I love you so damn much.” Harry himself was close to climax, emotion overpowering and mixing with physical euphoria.

“Fuck, Harry. God, I love you too. You’re so damn perfect like this.”

The thrusts became harder, deeper, and Draco shrieked in pleasure. “Merlin, Harry, I’m going to come!”

“Ah!” Harry let out a moan himself as his body released in ripples of ecstasy that coated the space between them.

Draco’s own seed spilled across their stomachs, mixing with Harry’s in a mess that could only be construed by love.

Their chests heaved against each other’s as Harry leaned against Draco. It was hot and sticky, but he didn’t mind one bit. He took a free hand and cupped Draco’s forehead, pressing his hair back against beads of sweat. Through heavy breaths, he smiled.

“Love you, Draco.”

Those eyes, those vibrant, green-stained irises bore into Draco like never before. Perhaps Death, in a sense, had brought them closer.

“I love you, Harry. All of you. Forever.”

Harry’s grin turned to a lop-sided, flippant smirk.  
“Forever.” He rolled off of Draco and paused before using a cleaning charm.

“Git.” Harry smiled facetiously.  
“Prat.”  
“Tosser.”

Draco grinned mischievously, and it was as if nothing had changed between them. It was, in fact, Heaven.

He pulled Harry in for another kiss, and, after re-dressing themselves, they settled for a close match of cuddling.

“Goodnight, Dray.” Harry buried his head in Draco’s chest, savoring the cool scent of peppermint. 

Draco chuckled lightly at the silly but sentiment pet name. “Goodnight, Harry. Just one more thing.”

“What is it, love?” Harry peered up at him curiously.

“Promise you won’t go into the light while you sleep?”

“You git.” He shoved Draco playfully. “No. I will never leave you.”

And then, chest against chest, they fell asleep.

&&&

When Harry woke up, the sun was streaming in bright rays through the windows of the infirmary.

He glanced around side to side and reached to the bedside table for his glasses when he found that he was seemingly alone.

“Fuck,” he muttered, coming to the realization that he’d left his glasses somewhere in the astronomy tower.

He sat up, vision slightly blurry but well enough to make out several colorful piles of something. What in the hell?

And then, there was the sound of a door cracking and two voices floated to Harry’s ears.

“So, you’ll let him leave today?”

“Yes, provided that he passes physical examination.”

He smiled to himself. Draco, already trying to convince Madam Pomfrey to free him.

The boy rounded the corner and lit up at the sight of Harry awake.

“Hey you! I hope you don’t mind; Madam Pomfrey was complaining of my stench so I ran back to the common room for a quick shower.”

Draco was dressed fully in uniform, Slytherin robes trailing the ground behind him.

“I got the notice a bit late, actually; apparently Dumbledore has cancelled classes for the day.”

Harry blinked, bringing his image into focus. Draco must have noticed him squinting. He chuckled.

“My fault, Harry. Here are your glasses. Professor Snape brought them to me.” He slipped the spectacles from his robe pocket and handed them to Harry.

“Thank you, Draco.” He glanced around with new clarity and noticed the large mounds of candy and gifts that surrounded him.

“Holy hell, what is all of this!?” He studied the presents graciously, shock evident upon his face.

“Please, Potter, do you really believe you can go coming back from the dead and NOT expect your friends to shower you with gifts?” He crossed his arms playfully.

“Yeah, apparently dying gets you the best presents.” Harry started at the voice of Blaise Zabini, who was 4 beds down and hoarded his own stash of candy and goods. Blaise wore a wide grin, teeth an uncanny white that matched the gauze Madam Pomfrey had secured around his injured arm.

“That was some pretty awesome badassery you pulled last night, Potter. It’s good to see that you’re back.”

Harry matched his smile, and Draco placed a supportive hand on his shoulder.  
“Thanks, man.”

“Hey, guys, now that we’re all friends, do you reckon we can share chocolates?”

The next voice came from the bed across Zabini. Harry chuckled.

“Of course, Neville. What in the hell happened to you, mate?”

“Oh, nothing too bad. Just a nasty blow to the face. Hermione healed most of it for me last night.”

“The price you pay for being a hero.” Blaise smirked, and Neville stuck out his tongue playfully.

“Don’t think you get to escape the hero jokes, Blaise. You pulled some of your own badassery last night.” Draco lifted his head facetiously.

“I guess I...am sort of a hero, aren’t I?” Blaise gestured toward himself haughtily. Draco rolled his eyes with a quirked smile.

Neville snorted, and Harry laughed heartily. At that moment, the door to the infirmary opened.

Madam Pomfrey escorted a weightless Pansy Parkinson into the hospital wing. Harry had never seen the girl so chipper, as if she was finally liberated from something that had haunted her for most of her life.

“Well, if it’s not the heroes themselves.” Her voice dripped with that Pansy-esque satire that was instantly recognizable. Her eyes, however, were soft and grateful and completely foreign to the girl standing before them.

“Speak for yourself, Pans. You saved my arse last night.” Draco’s “Thank you” went understood without words.

Pansy giggled and flashed him a grin.

“So you two aren’t Death Eaters after all, huh?” Harry’s gaze switched between Pansy and Blaise thoughtfully. His lips twitched into a humorous smile.

“Blaise was always good. But I may have... just recently come to my senses.” Pansy shared a knowing glance with her best friend before stamping one foot forward and placing her hands on either hip. “But don’t go spreading it, Potter! I have an evil reputation to uphold. I can’t have people thinking I’ve gone soft.”

Her lips pulled into a flippant smirk, and the whole lot of them broke into a guffaw.

“So, Harry, have you looked through your presents yet?” She made her way to the empty chair at the foot of his bed, eyes fixed on a box of jelly beans.

“No, not really.” He chuckled softly. “You’re welcome to help yourself.”

She happily ripped open the box of beans and took a handful before reaching for a different gift that was propped against the edge of the table.

“Here, this one’s addressed to you from Dumbledore.” She examined the rectangular present before handing it over. 

Harry carefully tore the brown packaging, careful not to disturb its contents. When he finished unraveling it, he found that what he had received was a book.

“Huh. That’s an odd gift.” Pansy cocked her head, mouth full.

“What is it?” Harry asked. “Have you all read it?”

“Only about a hundred times,” Draco answered. “It’s a children’s book.”

Harry’s brow scrunched in confusion as he read the title: “The Tale of the Three Brothers.”

He opened the front cover to find a note scrawled by the old man himself:

“Harry,

Perhaps this will help to do some much needed explaining. We are all very proud of your choices.

Albus Dumbledore”

Harry shrugged confusedly and began to read.

It was, as Draco put it, “a story of three idiots who all tried to bargain with death.”

“That is NOT what happened Draco. When my mother told it...” Pansy continued to school Draco on the ethics and morals behind the Three Brothers while Harry successfully drowned out their sibling-like bickering.

From what Harry concluded, there were three brothers that were greeted by death. They believed they had out smarted him and were awarded different gifts of their choosing for having done so. The first brother asked for the Elder Wand, the most powerful wand in the world. The second asked for a stone that could resurrect the dead. The third asked for the cloak of invisibility. While the first two were soon found and stolen by Death, the third brother in his humility hid from Death with the cloak until he turned a ripe old age and “greeted Death like an old friend.”

Harry’s most recent conclusion was... he had no freaking clue what Dumbledore wanted him to learn. Sure, he was... humble? But did the head master really care about teaching Harry manners at this point?

He closed the book with a somewhat muted frustration. So many riddles, so many clues. What he needed at the moment was Hermione.

He decided to try and enjoy his present company and set the book aside for later solving (and plus- wasn’t that very polite?)

He cracked jokes with the Slytherins, who, it turns out, weren’t half bad to have around. He knew they’d fit right in with the Gryffindors if both sides would willingly lay aside their prejudices. Maybe the battles of last night would help deteriorate the boundaries between the two rival houses. Harry contemplated this thought until he was startled by another knock on the door.

Madam Pomfrey escorted a small crowd to Harry’s bedside, and Pansy stood to leave.

“Pansy, you don’t have to-“

“It’s fine, Potter. Really. I’ve got lunch to catch.” She winked in his direction before exiting the infirmary.

The next round of visitors included an exuberant Hannah, Ginny, Luna, Susan, and Macmillan.

Hannah ran to Neville’s side, scooping him into an embrace and kissing him softly on the tip of the nose. “I’m glad to see you’re ok, love.”

“I’m great, now.” He flashed her an affectionate grin, and her cheeks began to glow a rosy red.

Their moment was interrupted startlingly by Luna’s overzealous, airy proclamation: “Harry!” 

She pulled him into a hug that the Hufflepuffs deemed necessary to join. Draco smirked at Harry’s uncomfortable surprise and watched humorously as he struggled to breathe.

When they separated, Harry took in a sharp breath that only Draco seemed to notice.

“I don’t know what the hell happened, Harry, but trust me when I say that we are ALL ecstatic to see you doing well.” Ginny bore a look of complete sincerity that was reflected in the faces of the entire group. Even Hannah had floated to Harry’s bed, a soft smile spread across her lips.

Harry nodded. “I’m not sure, either. But believe me, I’m glad to be here.” He stole a loving glance at Draco before continuing. “Thank you. All of you.” He peered at Neville and Blaise on the other side of the room. “If it weren’t for you guys, we wouldn’t have won this. I’m still wrapping my head around it, honestly. But damn it... we did it, guys!” His eyes sparkled with   
renowned hope. There was a series of nods, high fives, and even cheers from across the room. After the excitement died down, Draco found himself studying the faces before him.

“Isn’t someone missing? Wasn’t Chang sticking with you all?”

Harry witnessed five pairs of eyes fall to the floor uncomfortably. The Hufflepuffs shuffled their feet, unsure of what to say. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Cho refused to come. Last night, when you were... you know... well, you see, we all sort of knew about you and Draco being together. Some of us for a fact, some just by suspicion. All of us, that is... except Cho. The whole thing was complete news to her, and she didn’t take it very well.”

Harry’s brow crinkled in confusion. Draco could feel the devilish grin pulling at his cheeks, and he did his absolute best to stifle it.

“What does Draco and I being together have anything to do with... oh.”

Draco placed his face to his palm before pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead.

“Well, that’s ok. She played her part last night. You all did great. If she can’t accept this,” he intertwined his fingers with Draco’s, “then it’s her loss.”

There was a round of nods and acceptance from the group. It fell silent for a moment before Luna skipped happily to the next subject.

“Oh! You have the Tale of the Three Brothers! My father says that the Deathly Hallows are always closer than we think.”

“The Deathly what?” Harry asked, puzzled.

“The Deathly Hallows, you silly.” When silence rang across the group, Luna continued.

“You know, the Elder Wand. The Resurrection Stone. The Cloak of Invisibility. Legend says that if you become the owner of all three, you would become the master of Death.” She cocked her head innocently, and Harry’s mouth dropped.

When it became apparent that both Harry and Draco were in a state of deep contemplation, Ginny began to urge Luna toward the door.

“We are so grateful you’re here, Harry. And we love you. But we’re going to give you two some privacy.” She smiled at the couple softly as they headed toward the door. The rest of the group followed shortly after.

“The Deathly Hallows... but how....” Harry whispered to himself, and Draco straightened beside him.

“Your cloak, Harry. Your fucking cloak. Where did it come from?” There was a tone of urgency in his voice.

“Dumbledore gave it to me. He said that it belonged to my father.”

Draco pinched his chin between his thumb and index finger, placing thoughts together and drawing fine conclusions.

“Harry!” They both jumped this time as Hermione and Ron ran past Madam Pomfrey.

Hermione pulled them both into a hug, starting with Draco and then moving to her best friend.

“It’s good to see you’re doing better, mate.” Ron followed her, shaking Draco’s hand before wrapping his arms around Harry in a brotherly embrace. They then turned to Madam Pomfrey’s other patients.

“Blaise. Neville. Long time no see,” Ron commented facetiously, and Hermione rolled her eyes in a playful manner.

“How are you all feeling?” She asked politely.

“Peachy.” Both Blaise and Neville answered simultaneously, and then smirked at one another. It seemed the two had more in common than initially considered, and that this would quite possibly be the start of a beautiful friendship. Neville and Blaise began to talk amongst themselves, and both Ron and Hermione diverted their attention back to the couple before them.

“Harry,” Hermione pressed, beginning the conversation that had been irking her for hours. “What happened!? How did you... do you have any idea how...?”

She found herself unable to ask the questions that perched themselves upon her lips.

“No, I’m still not sure what happened. But, Hermione, look at this.” He tossed the book to her, and she hurriedly flipped open the front cover to reveal Dumbledore’s message.

“Hey, I know this story!” Ron exclaimed. “It’s about these brothers, and they get into a race...”

“A race!? No, it’s about the idiots that bargain with Death!” And so the bickering ensued.

Hermione read the story, soaking in each detail in an attempt to decipher Dumbledore’s clue. When she closed the back cover, Harry spoke.

“Luna said that the gifts from Death are called the Deathly Hallows, and that they’re real. And that whoever possesses them is considered the ‘Master of Death.’”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“I thought that was just a legend,” Ron interjected. “Plus, I hate to be this way, mate, but this is Luna were talking about.”

“Ron, I think Luna has a point.” Hermione had flipped the book back open and was tracing her finger along the pages, matching pieces and drawing understood conclusions.

“Merlin, Harry!” Hermione shrieked. “The Stone! The former horcrux! Where is it?”

Harry reached for his robes, which were slung across one of the chairs beside him. From the inside pocket he retrieved the box that held the intricate ruby red rock.

She took the box from him and studied its contents studiously.

“Harry, I... I think this is the resurrection stone.”

Harry gasped. Malfoy’s jaw dropped.

“It all makes sense!” She continued. “Why Dumbledore wouldn’t want you knowing it’s purpose. He knew that you would try to resurrect your family if you knew it’s power!”

She snapped the box shut and handed it back to Harry, whose hand was involuntarily shaking at her discovery.

“But he wanted you to have it. He wanted you to be in possession of the stone so that you could master death!”

“But why me? Why wouldn’t he use it for himself?”

“Because you’re the only one who can defeat Voldemort, Harry.”

Her words hung thick in the air around them. Nobody dared speak. Harry allowed the revelation to sink in.

“But what about the Elder Wand? I don’t have it. So it can’t be true.”

“I’m not sure about that one, Harry. Maybe you should ask Dumbledore.” She appeared solemn, disappointed that she hadn’t completely cracked the case.

“Well, maybe you don’t have to have it... maybe you just have to... come in contact with it or something?” Ron suggested, trying his best to help.

Harry shrugged. “Do you know anyone who might have the Elder Wand?”

Ron contemplated. “Voldemort?”

“No... if he had he Elder Wand, don’t you think he’d be trying a bit harder to get the other two?” Hermione’s brow narrowed in concentration.

“Maybe he is, though,” Draco suggested. “Maybe that’s why Dumbledore wanted us to take such good care of the stone.”

No one said anything, the idea settling among the quartet.

A loud voice snapped them out of the stupor.

“What’s up, bitches!?” Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas strolled into the infirmary.

“Language, Finnigan!” Madam Pomfrey shooed them along and headed back to her office, obviously uninterested in the conversation of teenagers.

They all started at the introduction but relaxed as the pair approached. Harry broke into a smile.

“Hey guys. Nice work last night!”

“Nice work yourself, friend. Are you sure you’re not a ghost?” Dean Thomas wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

Harry raised his arms forward, supinating and pronating his hands. “Nope, I’m all flesh and blood.”

“Good.” Seamus grinned, slipping his hand in Dean’s.

Harry tilted his head at the observation.

“So, uh... are you guys...?”

“Let’s just say you inspired us.” The two glanced at each other affectionately before turning to Malfoy and Potter.

“I’ve always been somewhat of a trendsetter.” Draco scoffed facetiously, teeth forming a friendly grin.

And they laughed. After all that had happened, they were laughing. And it felt damn nice.

They spent the next half hour or so visiting until the Gryffindors decided it was time to give Harry and Draco some alone time. During their stay, Madam Pomfrey had decided that both Neville and Blaise were good to go. She discharged them with instructions to rest, and the two walked out while still engaged in conversation.

They expected Madam Pomfrey to release Harry before the end of the day, and it would be back to normal afterward. As normal as life could be after defeating a group of Death Eaters.

Draco sat by Harry’s side, tossing about ideas regarding their most recent mystery. Before they knew it, Madam Pomfrey was flitting about Potter’s side, waving her wand in figure eight’s and making a diagnosis.

“How’s your head, Mr. Potter?”

“Good as new,” he flashed her a grin. To be truthful, it was still throbbing a bit. But he was ready as ever to leave.

She gave him a suspicious glare before waving her wand over what was left of his head wound.

“Well, Mr. Potter, your head is healing beautifully. You may be released if you are feeling up to it.”  
He nodded and thanked her before she left.

He was just about to change back into his robes when another visitor strolled into the hospital wing.

&&&

Albus Dumbledore, in all of his glory, approached Harry and Draco with a twinkling eye.

“Harry, how delightful to see you, my dear boy. As is you, Draco.” He nodded to the Slytherin whose fingers remained laced with Harry’s. “I presume you have received my gift.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you, sir. I, er... had some questions.”

“Ask away, and I’ll see what I can do to answer.” Dumbledore perched himself on the end of the bed, making himself comfortable for the interrogation.

“Sir... what do you know about the Elder Wand?”

Dumbledore grabbed Pansy’s open box of jelly beans and popped one in his mouth. Sweets were his guilty pleasure, to say the least.

“One wizard must overpower another to become the winner of the Elder Wand. Or, at least...” he winked at the two boys. “... that’s how the legend goes.”

Harry allowed this piece of information to sink in. Had he overpowered the owner of such a wonder? If so, when? And wouldn’t he have somehow just... known, when it had happened?

“How many Death Eaters did you take out yesterday, Harry? One of them must’ve held the Elder Wand!”

“Don’t you think your father would have told you if someone in his or Voldemort’s command wielded the Elder Wand?” Harry asked honestly. 

Draco nodded, perplexed. “Unless they just recently came to own it.”

Dumbledore smiled at the deductions unfolding before him.

“I can tell you this, gentlemen.” He stood, indulging on another of the rainbow beans. “I was disarmed last night by a very powerful wizard. Not as powerful as Tom Riddle, or even your father for that matter. But powerful enough.” He scratched his beard before bouncing upward cheerfully. “I must be going now, boys, I’ve got to assure the school and staff that everything is under control.” He turned and began to waltz away.

Pivoting on one heel, Dumbledore made a last declaration: “I do believe you boys have all of the answers right before you. Yes, you are armed with very... valuable information.”

“Sir,” Harry called after him, and Dumbledore paused. “Professor Snape said it was safer if no one knew I was alive. What should I do?”

“Do you know what’s wonderful about the impossible becoming the truth, Harry?” He smiled omnisciently. “People are more likely to believe that the impossible never occurred.” He raised his eyebrows with a shared understanding that Harry could continue his life. Dumbledore in all of his wisdom seemed to believe that the public would question Lucius Malfoy’s sanity before believing that Harry was immortal.

Dumbledore’s expression was one of tranquil omnipotence as he exited the infirmary. It seemed that some things would never change.

&&&

Draco and Harry sprinted to the Gryffindor common room as soon as he was fully dressed and released. Armed with new information, they eagerly sought Ron and Hermione for an intense session of brain storming. As soon as they passed the Fat Lady, however, they were ambushed by a crowd of cheering Gryffindors.

“Is it true, Harry!? Did you all defeat the Death Eaters!?” Collin Creevy bore a huge grin as he approached, camera dangling from his neck.

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, who were at the back of the crowd. Hermione smiled sheepishly, and Ron shrugged. It seemed the rumors, or perhaps the truth, had spread faster than wildfire.

“It’s true.” Draco answered smugly. Harry glared at him, much more purposed to humility.

“What? I’m not used to playing hero.” Draco grinned lovingly and Harry shook his head, a smile breaching his lips.

There was murmuring among the crowd, especially from the direction of Lavender and Parvati, who’d decided staying in the Great Hall during the attack was more their style.

“Draco’s right. There were Death Eaters in the castle last night.”

Murmurs turned to silence.

“Are you okay, Harry? Were you hurt?” RomIlda Vayne questioned carefully. Harry stole a glance at his friends, who all seemed to simultaneously shake their heads from amongst the crowd.

Apparently, no one had been informed of Harry’s death. Perhaps that was for the best.

“Um, no. Thankfully.” He paused, as eager ears listened for more information.

“Last night, Gryffindors fought alongside Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and even Slytherins to protect this castle and all of our lives. I hope that we can all take this experience to shatter the walls between houses. We all have one thing in common. We all want Voldemort defeated.”

He paused, allowing the information to settle.

“Your friends and colleagues were the real heroes last night. I saw Slytherins use their cunningness to trick Voldemort’s men. Ravenclaws in thinking outside of the box were able to incapacitate the ones who held your friends at wandpoint. Hufflepuffs fought bravely alongside Gryffindors. I’m telling you all, if this isn’t proof of House Unity, there is none.”

Draco beamed at his boyfriend proudly. Harry was always one for speeches, especially the motivational kind. A moment of quiet passed as the strength of Harry’s words permeated the air. And then, the entire room broke into a massive sea of cheers. The noise was epic; it rattled the paintings and caused several of the portraits to cover their ears. But nobody cared. For once, it seemed that they’d had a real win.

Draco and Harry made their way to the remainder of the Golden Quartet (Draco had coined the term himself at some point), and they found a somewhat secluded corner that they could speak in.

“Did you get a chance to talk to Dumbledore?” Ron hissed eagerly.

Harry nodded. “But all he said was that one wizard must overpower another to become master of the Elder Wand.”

“So, one of the Death Eaters then? Was it your father, Draco?” Hermione was rushing her words, a habit she’d picked up when she became excited about something.

Draco shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“And before he left, he said that he himself was disarmed last night.” Harry added, and Ron scrunched his nose.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Hermione rolled her eyes before slapping both him and Draco on the back of the head playfully. “Don’t you idiots see? Dumbledore was telling you that he was the master of the Elder Wand! Until last night, when someone overpowered him! But who?”

The group fell silent, shaking their heads as they tried to recall what had happened last night.  
“He was already disarmed when I got there.” Draco stated, “I remember. For sure.”

“Fuck.” Ron muttered under his breath. “Who else would’ve seen?”

“Harry, it must’ve been someone in the astronomy tower.” Hermione deduced. “Who did you disarm?”

“My father.” The voice was approaching from behind. Draco and Harry pivoted to see Pansy, accompanied by Blaise and Neville (who had apparently become rather close in the past few hours).

Draco smiled. House Unity really was at its greatest if the Slytherins were allowed to parade about pride territory unscathed. Remembering that day at lunch, he wondered if he really was a trendsetter. He’d file that thought for later.

“Harry Potter, you saved my life from the man who was supposed to protect me. You disarmed my father. And for that, I thank you.” She pecked him on the cheek and ran a flirtatious hand over his shoulder before winking at Draco. Blaise lifted his chin in acknowledgment of their presence before continuing his conversation about herbology with Neville. They followed Pansy, who flitted about the crowd making friends.

“Oh my God. It was Pansy’s father.” Harry’s eyes were wide beams of emerald, as if by dilating they could absorb more information.

“Cassius Parkinson overpowered Dumbledore. And then I disarmed him. And then I... became the owner of the Elder Wand.”

Three mouths dropped. “Bloody hell, Harry! Are you... immortal? Like a vampire or something?”

He expected Hermione to elbow or shove him as she normally did at stupid questions, but she herself was absorbed in thought.

“I mean, in theory... he would be.” She met eyes with Harry, who allowed the idea to settle with a smile.

“Harry, do NOT look that happy about this! You cannot go using the Deathly Hallows as an excuse to be reckless!” Hermione scolded him while Draco busted out laughing.

“Hey, Harry, wanna go jump off the astronomy tower later?” Draco jabbed, and it was his turn to face Hermione’s wrath.

“Don’t encourage him! Dumbledore wanted you two to protect the stone at all costs. And he’s a much more powerful wizard than Cassius Parkinson. If you ask me, he planned for this to happen.”

Their faces fell from excitement to contemplation. “I think you’re right, Hermione. I... he wants me to defeat Voldemort. He wants me to win.”

“Harry, this is excellent news,” Draco interjected, “But Hermione’s right. No one should find out about this. Especially Voldemort himself.”

Harry nodded.

“Come on, guys. We’ll fight Voldemort tomorrow. Today, we celebrate.” Ronald Weasley disappeared for a moment, only to return with a handful of butterbeers.

“Where do you guys keep getting this stuff!?” Harry exclaimed while he popped the top off of one and handed it to Draco. Ron placed a loving arm around Hermione before gesturing with his own butter beer to a couple not far from them, conversing against the wall.

“It’s Seamus and Dean, man. If they love anything, it’s getting drunk.”

Seamus was buckled over in laughter; Dean stood straight but chuckled at whatever the hell was so funny. And the way he looked at the Irish boy... it reminded Harry of something.

Without comment, he turned to Draco, whose own eyes were upon him. That was it. That look. Harry grinned, and knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was loved.

Draco raised his bottle. “A toast. To friendship. To love. And to kicking the shit out of Voldemort.”

Hermione chuckled lightly and, along with the others, raised her glass.  
“I’ll cheers to that.”


	31. Speeches in the Great Hall

McGonnagall informed the Gryffindors that all students were to report to the Great Hall during supper under the Headmaster’s orders.

She blatantly ignored the mess of half-vanished butter beer bottles and guilty expressions worn among the celebratory Gryffindors as she strolled through the common room.

Upon seeing all of her previously missing students present and intact, her face visibly relaxed. Lasting only a moment, she quickly composed herself to her usual stern manner.

“I should take enough Points from you all that Hufflepuff will win the House cup this year!”

A sea of eyes met the floor at the sudden lash of scolding from the Head of House. There was a pause so infamously silent that if a pin would’ve dropped, it would’ve cracked the air like thin ice.

“Sorry Professor,” Ron and Harry spoke identically, holding matching expressions of the guilt that only surfaced once they’d been caught. A true Gryffindor trait, Minerva observed, to place doing the right thing over the law-abiding one.

“But I won’t do that. Because each of you has shown bravery that Godric himself would be proud of. Congratulations, my students, and those that are of other houses. I admire every one of you that played a part in protecting our school. Thank you.”

Her pinched lips twisted subtly into a grateful smile. Faces brightened across the room at the rare and talented feat it had been to please Professor McGonnagal.

Harmony settled within the bones of every student, both young and older, Gryffindor and Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. There was a certain appreciation, a certain unity that came from McGonnagal’s compliment. The room once more broke into cheers, and Minerva blushed before clapping herself.

“Oh, you all. Now off to the Great Hall. And every one of you better make it this time.”

&&&

Dumbledore shuffled to podium, clearly planning on making some sort of announcement. All of the staff was present in conjunction with the students, who were eager to listen.

Some were still unaware of the previous night’s happenings. Most were unaware of Harry’s death and momentous resurrection. An even fewer number knew why it had happened.

Harry peered up from his treacle tart to steal a glance across the Hall. There, perched at none other than the Slytherin table, was an absolute mess of Draco Malfoy. He was laughing, cracking up so hard that even Harry swore over the distance he’d heard him snort.

Even better, he wasn’t alone. Blaise and Pansy surrounded him in their usual arrangement, giggling and continuing on in some joke that Harry felt lucky to witness.

For once, Draco Malfoy looked happy. In his own House. At his own table. And, for Harry, it was nice.

Once the laughter died down, steel eyes flashed upward to meet a kindly jade. Harry moved his hand in somewhat of an awkward wave, and Draco’s grin widened.

“I love you.” He mouthed, and Harry started at the warmth that seemed to creep up his cheeks and down into the rest of his being.

Flushed red, Harry’s cheeks pulled into a grin so wide it hurt. He couldn’t seem to contain himself; a giddiness had followed the warmth and was threatening to escape by fits of giggling and the like. Before he was given a chance to respond, all attention became directed toward the head of the Hall.

“Students of Hogwarts,” Dumbledore began, and the crowd became hushed.  
“It is my duty to inform you of what occurred on school grounds last night. As you know, your heads of houses brought you to the Great Hall for safety. Many of you may still be wondering what you were guarded from.” He strolled forward into the open, fiddling with his beard while he continued: “Last night, several Death Eaters were able to break into Hogwarts under the authority of Lord Voldemort. His biggest goal was to have me murdered. Thankfully, he and his Death Eaters have failed for the moment. If it were not for the work of several students last night, many lives would have been lost. As it stands, no one was severely injured.”  
He continued to pace forward.  
“On the contrary, a number of high ranking death eaters have been arrested and taken to the ministry for trial. This is a success that words cannot hold glory to.” He paused not far from the forefront of the Ravenclaw table.

“I would like to recognize the following:  
Ms. Cho Chang, for her unwavering dedication to her beliefs and standing for what’s right.”  
The cheers from Ravenclaw broke the silence and uplifted the seriousness that had settled like a fog at the mention of Voldemort.  
Cho smiled and nodded humbly, mouthing a quick “thank you.”  
“Ms. Luna Lovegood, for her uncanny ability to see the silver lining in the darkest of skies.” The sounds of hoops and hollers began to resonate from all Houses, including Slytherin.  
“Ms. Susan Bones. For finding miracles in places we so often over step.”  
No table held a higher hooray than the Hufflepuffs, whose loyalty was by far their most defining trait.  
“Ms. Hannah Abbott. For displaying House Unity and friendship amongst those who differ in a manner unseen before.  
Mr. Ernest Macmillan. For fearlessly fighting what others have turned and run from.” He then devoted his attention to the Slytherin table.  
“Mr. Blaise Zabini. For following your own sense of right and wrong, even when you were threatened into believing otherwise.”  
Blaise flashed a proud grin, and Neville gave a loud whoop from across the Hall.  
“Ms. Pansy Parkinson. For following your heart in an act so selfless that it has transformed you from the inside out. Not many in this world live to accomplish such a task.” Several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs gave confused and bewildered faces at Dumbledore’s proclamation. Parkinson? Selfless? Even...nice, for that matter?

But Pansy only grinned, beside herself. Those who were there last night, who really knew, clapped along with the Slytherins.

Harry expected a short snippet on Draco, the boy who lived despite changing alliances, but Dumbledore turned to the Gryffindors. A pang of rejection sunk within his abdomen. Did he not want to mention him because of his father? Or did Dumbledore not truly believe that Draco was on their side?

“Ms. Ginny Weasley, for her strength and determination despite all set backs.”  
Harry clapped with the others, but his thoughts were distracted. Draco’s face held a sense of dejection that only Harry could see.

“Mr. Dean Thomas, for collaboration and teamwork so well built that it could take down a werewolf.”

At this, Dean was awarded by a mountain of Gryffindors piling over him, instilling rough pats on the back and knuckles to the head.

“Mr. Seamus Finnigan,” all eyes shifted just left of Dean, “because laughter really is the best medicine. You’ve kept your friends’ spirits in high places during these tough times.

“Mr. Neville Longbottom. You’ve mastered spell work that requires skill beyond your years. I’ve never seen someone improve so quickly.” Neville’s toothy grin matched the spirit of victory evident with each cheer.

“Mr. Ronald Weasley. For taking leadership into your own hands and marching an army to victory.” Ron smiled at the recognition and blushed as Hermione wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Ms. Hermione Granger. Your thorough knowledge and expertise and your willingness to share it has instilled a generation of students who are far beyond their years. Your wisdom and dedication to learning is a unique treasure.”  
Hermione’s cheeks turned a rosy pink as she separated from Ron and absorbed the compliment. Her lips pulled into a soft, grateful smile.

“Mr. Harry Potter.” He directed his gaze from Draco to Dumbledore, a bit offended that the old wizard would skip the love of his life in favor of himself.

“Your sacrifice and courage is beyond comparison. Your willingness to protect those you love runs deeper than magic itself. You are one of a kind, my dear boy. Don’t ever allow that to change.”

Harry smiled subtly at the head master, appreciative but apprehensive. Draco hooped and hollered with the rest of the Great Hall, but Harry couldn’t help but remain reserved at the absence of Draco’s appreciation. When the crowd settled, Dumbledore brought his hands together, lacing his fingers and turning his attention to the Slytherin table.

“Last but most certainly not least, I would like to recognize Mr. Draco Malfoy.” The blonde froze, glancing at the head master and then to Harry with his brow furrowed in confusion. Apparently, he wasn’t expecting to be acknowledged.

Pansy and Blaise stared at him with wide, glassy eyes. Harry felt himself physically relax and grinned expressively across the Hall.

“You have made a decision so bold that even the prospect of death did not phase you. A boy your age should not bear the weight that you have conquered and flourished beneath. I am more than just proud of you, Draco. I respect you both as a wizard and a man.”

Malfoy didn’t speak. No one did. His expression was one of shock worn beneath glossy, fixated eyes. Dumbledore respected...him? He was just Draco, just doing his best to make it day to day. To escape his father and Lord Voldemort. Surely he wasn’t one to be respected by the only wizard to defeat Grindelwald himself.

Dumbledore lent a knowing smile in his direction, followed by an affirming nod.  
Harry was shaking his head proudly. Hermione and Ron both whirled to beam excitedly at the Slytherin table. Draco was at a complete loss and held an understandably blank expression.

A silence had taken hold on the room and was broken by Dumbledore’s own applause. Behind him, Minerva McGonnagal joined in a standing ovation, her face stretched into a tight grin. The rest of the staff ensued, and soon after the entire Hall had hopped up from their seats excitedly. There were hoops and hollers, hats thrown wildly in the air, embraces and jumps and... freedom.

Harry allowed himself to smile, to feel as weightless as the crowd surrounding him. To be truthful, there were plenty more perils ahead, more trials and challenges and battles against the Dark Lord. For once, however, they basked in victory.

He shared an understanding glance with Hermione, who knew that their journey was far from over. There were horcruxes to discover, Deathly Hallows to protect, and more Death Eaters to overcome. More sacrifices to be made.

She smiled and clapped with Ron, who pressed a kiss against her cheek affectionately. The way her face lit up- it was beautiful. And Harry was forever grateful for this moment.

His eyes instinctively searched for Draco but were at a loss when the boy appeared absent from the group of celebratory Slytherins.

He glanced around, checking a sea of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Harry immediately grinned and turned to find Draco wearing his favorite smile, lips pulled up at the edges softly.

“Congratulations, love.” He spoke genuinely, and Harry could feel the breeze of peppermint breath brush lightly against his face. He wanted to kiss him, to pull him forward and claim him as his own in his entirety. 

Instead, he settled for the squeeze of his hand beneath robes. “I love you. This feels like a dream to me.”

“It’s not.” He leaned even closer, and Harry felt himself begin to swoon. “But if it were, I wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. I’d choose to remain comatose as long as you’d allow me to.”

Harry chuckled. “Of course you would. Meanwhile I’d be stuck trying to wake your arse up.” Draco smiled, teeth glinting in the floating candle light.

“To be fair, I was stuck trying to wake YOUR arse up last night.”

“‘Cause it’s not like I was dead or anything.”

“Too soon?”

Harry shook his head, laughing heartily. “Prat.”


	32. Epilogue

The skies were crisp and clear, devoid of any chance for rain. The horizon was colored a rich baby blue, dotted by golds and reds that painted the autumn trees. A light breeze was present, sharp enough to keep you alert and cool enough to keep from sweating. Perfect Quidditch weather.

It was a Saturday morning, and the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams were lined up along the pitch. It was finally time for the re-match that had been post-poned for weeks, and the crowd was absolutely ecstatic. There were poms and banners and scarves scattered with silvers and greens; reds and golds.

Luna was perched happily on the front row of the stands, sporting her infamous lion hat and a banner that was magically fixed to bear Ginny’s name.

Her cheeks flamed as red as her hair when she saw it from the starting line, mounted on her broom with her head in the game. It wasn’t just her name. It was her name...outlined in hearts. A bit embarrassed, she still couldn’t help but smile at the sentiment. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies as she caught Luna waving in her direction. Feeling bold, she blew her a kiss.

Next to Luna was Seamus Finnigan, who noticed the banner and felt an immediate need to re-create it. He gripped his chin thoughtfully, studying Luna’s charm work. He elbowed her playfully as he drew his wand and began to imitate her spell. Draped over the stands in close proximity to the Ginny Weasley banner appeared another with the words “Dean Thomas” written boldly and, of course, surrounded with hearts.

Luna grinned and poked at Seamus, Who smugly eyed the object of his spellwork preparing for take off.

Dean shook his head with a light chuckle as Seamus flashed him a thumbs up and a wiggle of his eyebrows. Apparently, Dean thought with relief, they weren’t going to hide this.

Neville and Hannah sat directly behind them hand in hand. Beside them were Pansy and Blaise, who decided to facetiously charm their own sign to read “POTTER WILL CATCH THE SNITCH, AS ALWAYS.”

Draco noticed the Gryffindor red print and instantly formed his hand into an offensive gesture in their direction with a huge smile. They winked and laughed soulfully in response.

Hermione sat next to Pansy and decided to join in on the fun. She shot sparks from her wand that spelled in graceful green cursive the words “Draco Malfoy is the best Seeker, but Ron’s a Keeper.” She admired her pun with a smug smile.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at the utter unity between the two groups of friends. It caused a fuzzy warmth to spread from his abdomen, and he stole a glance at Draco before Madam Hooch blew her whistle. He was focused, brow narrowed and a smirk dancing upon his lips. Harry was stuck on the image of the beautiful boy before him and almost forgot to fly when the screech of the whistle signaled the start of the match.

The heated sensation crept through his toes as he bounced from the Earth and took off in flight. He was weightless, a feather drifting through the wind as he ascended. He kept his vision peeled for snitch, a competitive spirit igniting the air much like Hermione’s sparks.

Several meters away, Draco hovered as he searched for the flutter of golden wings. Chasers and beaters buzzed below like bees, and this time he made sure to stay clear of bludgers.

It appeared that Weasley held the quaffle and was rapidly heading toward the goal post. She was quite talented, Draco noted before directing his attention back to the empty air surrounding him.

His eyes followed any sign of movement, triggered for the slight change in atmosphere. It wasn’t long before his gaze caught Potter, who was across the pitch with the same goal in mind.

His hair was blowing wildly with the breeze, leaving it even more unkempt than usual as he searched. Draco felt a sense of appreciation grab his gut, thankful to be able to call such a talented, bold, awkward git his own.

His distraction was brief as something swift disturbed his peripheral vision. Could it be, so soon in the game? He snapped his head to the right, bracing his broom just in case.

Sure enough, a glint of gold glittered in the sunlight. The snitch. Had anyone even scored yet?

He listened intently as the crowd erupted in cheers and decided that yes, someone must have scored, though he wasn’t sure which side.

He abruptly took off in the direction of the snitch, dipping forward to gain speed and precision. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds passed when he heard the soft whoosh of Potter gaining on him.

“I would pass you but I like the view from back here better!” Harry’s voice was a cheerful echo against the wind. Draco felt himself lose speed as a laugh bubbled within his throat.

The Snitch was flitting about some meters away, and Draco tried his best not to lose sight of it. Meanwhile, more applause rang from the stands. Who was winning?

“Enjoy it, Potter! It’s the best view you’ll get today!” He laughed as they whizzed forward. Draco happened to notice Slytherin score below them as they closed in on the Snitch.

Quickly, Harry had lurched forward so that he was at shoulder level with Draco.

“Hey, you!” He called distractedly, attempting to slyly divert Draco’s attention.

“That is not going to work on me, you cheater!” Draco called, keeping his focus ahead.

“I’m not cheating! I’m just having a nice conversation with the love of my life!” Draco could hear the flippant smile in Harry’s voice.

“You prat!” Draco responded, reaching his arm forward as the Snitch was mere feet away. Harry zoomed forward, coming between Draco and the snitch fiercely.

“But I’m your prat!” He grinned at Draco as he strained his own arm forward.

Below, the stands we’re going wild. Gryffindor scored. All attention was given to the two Seekers, who’d made record timing in finding their goal.

“Watch it, Potter!” He responded, bringing his own body closer to distract his opponent. Harry paused as Draco brushed against him, a chill causing his whole body to shake. Draco took the lead.

“I like it when you play dirty, you know!” Harry called from behind him, and Draco slowed once more with a chuckle. He kept the lead, however, and hurriedly closed in on the Snitch.

Harry was at his side again, composing himself quickly and attempting with everything he had to win.

He brushed his torso against Draco’s slender physique to no avail. “I know you like it!” He called playfully, but Draco’s attention was on the prize.

Harry tried once more, leaning forward and titling his broom sideways to press their bodies together. He softly bumped against his shoulder, throwing off Draco’s balance entirely.

Harry hadn’t expected Draco to completely lose control of his broom, but that’s exactly what happened as he tumbled forward, holding the stick with both hands as he did flips in the air.

Harry paused with the sudden fear that he had hurt him but eventually decided to press forward after Draco began to re-gain control. After all, the Snitch was still glittering brightly ahead...

Harry reached his arm forward, but with the blink of an eye... it had disappeared. Harry stared confusedly. What the hell?

Below him, Draco steadied himself. He was smiling widely, and Harry wondered what he was so happy about. That’s when he saw it.

The Snitch was held firmly between Draco’s fingers, caught mid-flip. His expression was wild, ecstatic, like he’d done something he never believed he was capable of.

Harry’s mouth dropped into a shocked gape as the crowd burst wildly.

Draco stared at the Snitch between his fingers in disbelief and then turned his gaze to meet Harry’s. Seeing the absolute pure happiness in his face was enough to make him melt. He let go of his broom to start clapping with the stands.

Draco grinned, hovering on cloud nine. There was something about this moment that raised a desire from deep within Harry. The crowd seemed to disappear. The players dissipated. It was just Harry and Draco, floating above the pitch.

He wanted to kiss him. To share in this moment and never let him go. He wanted to spend forever in his arms, cuddled against his chest with that surreal innocence painted on his face.

Without thinking, Harry flew to him.Their eyes met, and Draco chuckled with astonishment.

“I did it, Harry.” He spoke softly, fingers grasping the snitch.

“This time.” Harry grinned smugly, but his expression softened immediately afterward.

“I love you, Draco.”

Draco allowed his hand to drop, grip softening on the winning piece. His lips tugged upward.

“I love you, too-“ He began, but Harry cut him off abruptly. The moment was perfect, and it was calling to be seized. Harry leaned forward on his broom, took Draco’s face into both of his palms, and kissed him.

His lips were warm and inviting, and as far as he was concerned, they were alone. Just Harry, Draco, and the snitch. Draco relaxed against his grip, allowing himself to succumb to the magic that belonged solely to their kiss.

Their eyes were closed, lost in the moment. The only evidence that disproved their solitude was the sudden cheers that erupted from the crowd.

Gryffindors and Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws all broke into a loud acclamation. The members of Dumbledore’s Army were especially exuberant, jumping and clapping ecstatically. 

Pansy shrieked with approval, secure in herself and her own future. Blaise smirked, happy that this day had finally come for his best friend.

Neville kissed Hannah square on the lips, inspired by their boldness. She blushed shyly, shutting her own eyes gracefully as she accepted.

Hermione glanced at Ron, who shrugged with a smile from the pitch before clapping himself.

Finnigan whistled loudly before meeting eyes with his own chaser. Both Dean and Ginny shared a knowing look before flying to the stands together.

Luna’s eyes were full of wonder. “Isn’t it beautiful, Ginny? Isn’t it just amazing?”

She asked, eyes fixed upon the two former enemies. Ginny didn’t respond. Instead, she pulled Luna by the strings of her hat into a passionate and fiery kiss.

“I like the Banner.” Dean laughed as he approached Seamus, and it was suddenly understood now more than before that there was nothing to hide between them. Seamus hesitated, a look of seriousness upon his face as this sunk in.

Dean, however, shared a desire with Harry to seize the moment. He lurched forward, embracing Seamus by the shoulders and kissing him firmly on the lips. Seamus fell limp beneath him before wrapping his own arms around the chaser.

Pansy cat called, sharing in the overzealous excitement teetering in the air. Hermione blew her own kiss to Ron across the pitch.

“Get it, Ginny!” Macmillan called across the crowd, ecstatic for his newly made friend. She smiled against Luna, aware of their presence amongst the students, and not giving a damn.

In the staff area, Severus Snape sat rigidly next to Albus Dumbledore.

“Would you look at that, Severus? Slytherin won the match!” Dumbledore gestured to the head of House, who nodded curtly before pivoting to Minerva McGonnagal.

“I believe you owe me 3 galleons, Minerva.” He smirked, extending his hand toward the witch.

“Not yet, I don’t.” She said sternly, keeping her eyes on the field.

“Gambling, I see?” Said Albus with a smile. “Well, would you look at that!” He lifted his binoculars to examine the happenings before him.

Professor McGonnagall’s lips pulled into a victorious grin; Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Pay up, Severus!” She extended her own hand. “Slytherin may have won, but those two found their way out of the closet and onto the quidditch pitch!”

Beside her, Narcissa Malfoy giggled. Her acceptance of her son (sons, now, she vowed) was unwavering.

“Quite literally, actually. Why do I have to witness such things?” He reached into his robes and handed her the currency. Minerva smiled smugly as she pocketed her winnings.

“Don’t be a spoil sport, Severus.” Narcissa added, “I even saw that one coming.”

“And what is this?” Albus turned his binoculars to the student section of the stands. The others followed his gaze.

“And here I always thought Longbottom would be the gay one.” Snape mentioned sarcastically.

Minerva slapped his shoulder disapprovingly. “Well, it just goes to show, Severus, you never know these things for sure. Besides, Finnigan and Thomas have been pining for each other since first year. I knew it before they did.”

“Well, aren’t you possessor of the Sight?”

“You two, settle down.” Dumbledore was grinning ear to ear. “As if you really knew.” He placed his binoculars back in his lap.  
“Lovegood and Weasley have been a match since 5th year, by the way.” He chuckled to himself lightly. Severus rolled his eyes while his lips pulled upward into a cross between a smirk and an exasperated smile.

McGonnagall unexpectedly joined Narcissa Malfoy in a laugh. Her shoulders relaxed, posture shifted into a stance of complete calm. A position she wasn’t used to fulfilling, but that the occasion called for. It almost seemed as if they were all having their own happy ending.

The cheers continued. Hermione transfigured her sparks into rainbow letters that read “LOVE IS LOVE. CONGRATULATIONS!”

Ron grinned at her proudly before flying over to meet her. Gryffindor may have lost, but he felt like nothing less than a winner as he joined in on the madness and pulled her in for a kiss.

Slytherin hopped in a celebratory dance after winning the match. Gryffindor, in all of their support, didn’t sport the normal downcast that followed a loss. Across the stands was a spirit of hope, of liveliness, of victory. It was a refreshing change for the students of Hogwarts.

When Draco and Harry separated, they remained afloat above dozens of cheering supporters. Draco gestured toward the stands, and Harry turned to see their friends joining in on the expression of love.

He smiled. “See, Potter? I’m a trendsetter.”

“Yeah, that’s what you are, alright.” Harry paused, glancing down at his broom and then back into those smoldering gray eyes.

“Hey, Harry,” Draco started. “Thanks for following me into the washroom that day. I needed you, and I didn’t even know it yet.”

“Are you kidding me, Draco? I need you more than you know. That’s why I followed you. You’ve completely flipped my world upside down. It will never be the same. There is no life without you now.”

Draco’s eyes were soft, loving, honest. They were cool, like ashes after a fire. A flame that had completely singed anything bad in Harry’s world. He rose like a pheonix, reborn.

Those smokey eyes lit up as Draco’s cheeks pulled into a wide grin.

“I didn’t know you were gay, Potter.”

Harry felt himself melt from the inside out.

“Shut up before I hex you.”

And then he closed the space between them, placing kisses all over that lovely smile. It was a moment of marshmallows, of switched alliances, of home. Of emerald predictions and new friends; of trials and recent victories. But mostly, it was a moment of love between two opposites that turned out to be a perfect fit, in so many ways. It was, to put it quietly simply...heaven.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! My first fully finished long fan-fiction!
> 
> Thank you so much if you’re here reading this! Please let me know what you thought. <3


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